Sue
by Pandoras-Closet
Summary: It's the sixth year at Hogwarts. An invasion has commenced. For the Sues have come to Hogwarts. And all will be stained red with blood.
1. Dumbledore's Daughter?

Albus Dumbledore was a happy man.

Oh, he was apprehensive a bit, but when one's own daughter has been placed in potential danger, any father would be apprehensive.

A faint voice screamed.

Crystal Methal was an addition to his life that had come as a bit of a surprise. A summer vacation some sixteen years ago had led to a liaison with a much younger woman and Crystal was the result. For her own safety, Dumbledore had forbidden her to ever come to England, instead having her attend Moosehall Prep, a school in the northern reaches of Canada, a place Voldemort, or Dumbledore's other enemies for that matter, would have no interest in.

There was, the voice screamed, something terribly wrong here.

But Crystal's letters had grown increasingly more insistent that she come to Hogwarts. From an educator's view, it was quite the feather in Hogwart's cap; Crystal had no need of a wand and had powers that could potentially outshine the most powerful witches and wizards of the age. There were rumors of other students, but Crystal was the only one Hogwarts knew of and she wanted to join the Order of The Phoenix in the war against Voldemort.

You don't know this person!

And while Dumbledore couldn't explain how she knew about the Order, it didn't seem to be important. He couldn't very well refuse his own child, could he?

Tall and slender almost to the point of being emanciated, Crystal was nonetheless a beautiful young witch with rounded curves and eyes that danced with mischevious glee. Her school robe was open, revealing that she was wearing shorts and a top that showed more skin than might be decent.

Nearby, Minerva McGonagall stood, smiling indulgently.

This is madness, somebody stop this!

"It's wonderful, Father," Crystal said. She blew a bubble of gum. "It's everything I wanted."

"Not quite," said a new voice. All three spun.

Sitting on the steps leading to the upper reaches of Dumbledore's office was a young man about Crystal's age. He was dressed in Muggle clothes, all black. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up and he wore fingerless leather gloves. His smile was empty of emotion and his gray eyes were hard. He was athletic, but very skinny, as though he never ate well.

Crystal looked him up and down. "Who the fuck are you?" she demanded.

"You shouldn't talk like that in front of your father," the young man admonished, waving a finger in a tsking motion.

Crystal hugged Dumbledore. "Daddy doesn't care."

Dumbledore smiled beatifically down at his offspring. "Who's your friend, Crystal?"

"So fuck you," Crystal said to the intruder, completely ignoring Dumbledore's question.

If it was possible, the young man's smile became even emptier, his eyes harder. "The letters D.S.A. ring any bells?"

Crystal's reaction was immediate. She shoved Dumbledore away. "How the hell did you get here?" she snarled.

"What a nice name. I'll leave you and your friend to talk," Dumbledore said to Crystal. "Some tea, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked.

"I'd love some, Albus," McGonagall replied.

The two walked towards the door as the intruder got to his feet, or rather, flowed to his feet.

"I'm not going back," Crystal said. "You'll have to kill me."

"Sounds like a plan," the intruder said as his pupils enlarged until his eyes were ebony-black orbs. His fingertips peeled back as claws of bone emerged. The gloves exploded into shreds as green vine-like tendrils flowed out of openings on the back of his hands, winding their way around his fingers, hands, and forearms. Blades of bone popped from his forearms, curving backwards as the holes of their emergence healed over. His ears lengthened as his nose shrank. More bone plates slid out of his cheeks and formed a sort of mask over his mouth and where his nose had been. Lastly, his shoes and the lower half of his pants tore as bone like armor seemed to grow out of his very skin and cover his lower legs and feet as his toes sprouted bone claws.

Dumbledore paused as his hand touched the door. His head suddenly felt funny. Like it had been packed with wool.

"Albus?" Minerva asked and then she too, began rubbing her head. There was a harsh buzzing, like a swarm of angry bees.

"Avada Kedavara!" Crystal shouted and Dumbledore staggered, as it felt like a giant hand had reached deep into his soul and yanked out parts of it.

"You missed me!" the intruder called. Dumbledore turned to see the young man hanging from the overhead lamp over the remains of the desk. Fawkes' stand had been overturned and Gryffindor's sword lay on the floor. A few papers lay on the floor, smoldering.

"This school is mine!" Crystal screamed. "All of them are mine!" You can't take it from me!" She raised her hand, nd Dumbledore felt that hand close around his soul. The air seemed to mist, as though he was in a thick fog.

The intruder leapt from the lamps as it exploded, plunging the room into darkness.

"Lumos," McGonagall snapped. The tip of her wand began to glow, revealing Crystal and the intruder staring at each other.

Crystal's mouth opened in a snarl, revealing needle sharp teeth as her eyes began to glow. Her fingers elongated and sprouted claws. She became unnaturally tall and thin, her hair a silvery white.

At some unseen cue, they lunged at each other. Slashing, punching, and kicking. Furniture was overturned, some of the cabinets were knocked over.

Get some tea, said a voice. Some nice hot tea. You don't need to sit around and listen to some teens talk. Take him and go get some tea.

McGonagall started to move to the door and then stopped, fighting the strange compulsion to leave the room.

Tea.

No.

Get some tea.

No. I refuse.

Tea. Now.

NO! With all her willpower and discipline, McGonagall lashed out the strange compulsion. BEGONE! Something unseen seemed to flee with a howl and for a moment, Crystal staggered and Dumbledore collapsed. Pausing only a moment to catch her breath, McGonagall raised her wand. "Expelliurmus!" Crystal ducked it, and the young man was sent flying, smashing into one of the bookcases and buried under the resulting hail of books and wood.

"Well," Crystal said softly. "I suppose I should thank you." Even her voice had changed, it seemed to come from a distance and was overlaid by a snarl.

"Leave here," McGonagall said. "Inform Voldemort that Hogwarts will not fall."

"Voldemort? You think I serve Voldemort? Voldemort is nothing. Nothing!" Crystal approached McGonagall and the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts felt the strange compulsion once more enter her mind like mist. Crystal was showing off a bit was all. So the room had gotten trashed a little bit. That's why there were--McGonagall shook her head, clinging to the reality of what she had just seen and pushed the compulsion back.

"So that's it." Crystal said. The glow in her eyes flared and McGonagall gasped as the compulsion slammed itself against her mind. Grabbing the door handle for support, McGonagall pushed back.

"What do you want?" McGonagall demanded. To her amazement, Crystal's face took on a lovesick expression, which on the decidedly inhuman countenance looked almost ridiculous.

"I want my Dracey-poo," Crystal purred and then, to McGonagall's horror, launched into a spiel of how she intended to reform Draco Malfoy with the power of true love. The only place such a...scenario would have been acceptable was a badly written romance novel for young Muggle girls.

Unnoticed, the pile of books and wood began to shift.

"You must realize he'll never go along with it. His hatred is in his blood. You can't reform--"

"I'LL MAKE HIM REFORM!" Crystal shouted, lunging forward, her claws narrowly missing McGonagall's head as they punctured the heavy wood door as though it was tissue paper. Her breath was fetid, warm and smelly and McGonagall somehow managed not to cringe.

Something rose up from the pile, something with glowing red eyes.

"He's mine," Crystal said softly. "He and the others will fight over me, but my heart is his and in the end, he will be mine. He and Harry will become friends and we'll all be one big happy family." A fingertip with all the softness of a dry leaf touched McGonagall's face. Crystal's eyes softened. "And then Harry will realize the true feelings he has for Ron Weasley and finally, they will admit the love that they have for each other."

McGonagall choked. "Love?" she gasped.

Crystal nodded almost serenely. "Its there, they both ignore the signs though. Boys usually do." She laughed indulgently. "I'll straighten them out...I'll fix everything."

"You'll--" McGonagall started and then broke off as something warm and wet splashed her face and her robes. Both women looked down at the hand that protruded from what had been Crystal's chest. The hand was covered in bone plates, blood, and wrapped with vines. The fingers were closed around a thing that looked like a cross between a jellyfish and a misshapen octopus. The hand withdrew and Crystal collapsed to the ground. In the light of the wand, McGonagall saw the young man. He was now almost completely covered in bone plates, with only his hair and glowing red eyes visible. His pants were tattered ruins.

"No!" Squeaked a tiny voice. "It can't end like this!"

"You're useless outside a host, Sue," the young man said and his fingers tightened. The thing beat impotently at his wrist and fingers with tiny tentacles.

"She'll stop you!" It shrieked before squishing with an ugly sound. A clear liquid spurted out either side of his fist and fell to the floor, burning holes in the stone where it landed.

"I..." McGonagall gasped. "What...who?" She trailed off and forced herself to focus. Then she drew herself up and spoke firmly with all the authority that thirty-five years as an educator gave a person. "I demand an explanation."

"You won't be the only one," he said and pointed down.

Reflexively, McGonagall looked down to see Professor Dumbledore beginning to stir and when she looked up, the young man was gone. She muttered a curse and then, thinking fast, raised her voice as she knelt to cradle Dumbledore's head. "Elf!"

Immediately, a strange creature appeared before her. It had big eyes and even bigger ears. It wore a tea towel stamped with the Hogwarts Crest like a Toga and stared up at her with quiet determination. "Yes, Professor?"

"This room must be restored, exactly as it was. Exactly, you understand?" Dumbledore groaned. "Quickly!" McGonagall snapped. "Before the headmaster wakes up!"

The house-elf sprang into action, others appearing in response to some silent summons. Like a whirlwind, they moved about the office, restoring furniture books with insane speed and plenty of magic. McGonagall raised her wand and aimed it at Dumbledore. "Forgive me, Albus," she whispered and then raised her voice. "Obliviate!" The wand sparkled and erased any memory of Crystal from Dumbledore's mind. Reversing her grip on the wand, she rapped Dumbledore smartly on the head, and then turned her attention to the paintings of past Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts that lined the walls. "And not a word about this to him or anyone else, you understand? Any of you who speaks will find themselves on the staircase leading to Syltherin House. and in a cheap frame to boot."

"Now see here," the painting of Headmaster Crumbles started but froze when McGonagall fixed him with a steely glare. "Yes, Headmaster?"

"Er, nothing."

Behind her, the house-elves had complete their work. "Thank you. Speak of this to no one, not even among yourselves. Especially not to Professor Dumbledore, for his own safety," McGonagall said and they vanished. It was a desperate ploy, the house-elves were loyal to Dumbledore alone. But they held her in respect and no house-elf would do anything to put their master in danger. It would have to do.

Scooping some powder from a small pot, McGonagall threw it on the fire. "Madam Pomfrey, could you come to the Headmaster's office please? Use the fireplace."

A moment later, Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, emerged from the fire. "Yes Minerva?" Then she saw Dumbledore. "Al--Professor Dumbledore! She rushed to his side and knelt beside him. "What happened?"

"We were going to get some tea," McGonagall lied. It went against her instincts as a Gryffindor and head of Gryffindor House to lie, but the truth made absolutely no sense either. "He tripped and hit his head."

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "I told him he was going to trip over his robe one of these days." She flicked her wand and conjured a restorative potion, which she gave to Dumbledore.

"What happened?" Dumbledore asked when he woke.

"You tripped," Madam Pomfrey informed him as she and McGonagall helped him stand. "I told you would one of these days. Come, I'll help you to your rooms."

When they had left, McGonagall adressed the empty room. "You can come out now, they're gone."

He came down the stairs carrying a duffel bag. He wore a different shirt and pants and cheap sneakers. The bone plates and vines were gone and he would not have warranted a second glance on any Muggle street. "Thanks," he said quietly.

Without other things on her mind, McGonagall realized that he was really quite young and very skinny. He had brown hair and his eyes, bloodshot with exhaustion, weren't gray, but rather a very light blue. His skin was pale and sallow and he was quite dirty.

She heard a faint gurgle and a trace of embarrassment crossed his face as he pressed a hand to his stomach.

McGonagall sighed. "My name is Professor McGonagall," she said. "And I have a great many questions..." she looked him up and down. "Which I will ask while you eat." He couldn't quite hide his happiness, she noted and wondered when he had last eaten.

"Come, she said, and escorted him out of the office. She couldn't quite escape the feeling that she had just bitten off far more then she could chew.


	2. Fortune Favors a Weasley

If there was such a thing as the anthropomorphic personification of motherhood, it would be Molly Weasley. Stout, red-haired and sharp-tongued, Molly Weasley ruled the Weasley children with an iron fist and the Order's headquarters with an iron fist wrapped in velvet. McGonagall was a teacher, and one of the best, but she didn't fully understand the way children thought. Molly did. Which was why McGonagall had gone to her.

The Weasley family made their home at the Burrow, a ramshackle structure taller then it was wide set on a few acres of farmland at the edges of Ottery St. Catchpole, a village a few miles outside of London.

"Invasion, he claims?" Molly said, pouring tea for both herself and McGonagall. "A tall tale, that."

"I saw it with my own eyes, Molly," McGonagall said, taking her cup and inhaling the aroma. "I'm still not sure I believe it."

"You'll be telling the Ministry, won't you?" Molly asked, sitting down across from the kitchen table from McGonagall. Like everything else in the Burrow, the table showed signs of wear. But it was wear in a good way. The Burrow was more then a building, it was home, and you could feel it the moment you entered.

"No," McGonagall said, shaking her head. "I won't be. Or the rest of the Order for that matter."

"An' is that wise?" Molly asked. "An invasion's nothing to ignore."

"Can you imagine how Fudge will react?" McGonagall asked. "Or people like Moody, for that matter? For heaven's sake, Molly, I performed a memory charm on the Headmaster of Hogwarts. I lied, and covered up the damage, ordered the house-elves to keep a secret and all in all, the penalty is my job at least. Azkaban is more than likely." She shook her head as she glanced out the window. The young man, who had given his name as Gary Stuart, lay on the grass out in the garden, basking in the sun. "And if he's telling the truth about these . . . Sues, getting the Ministry involved is the last thing we need. A Sue controlling the Minister of Magic? I shudder to think it."

Molly considered this and then finally nodded. "Fair enough. But why not tell the Order?"

McGonagall hesitated and sighed. "What do the Muggles call it? Women's Intuition. I can't explain why, but my instincts tell me that telling the Order is out of the question. If Crystal was any judge, their interest seems to be in the students alone."

"I can't say I welcome that as good news," Molly said. "From what you told me Crystal said about Harry and Ron," she shuddered slightly. "I got no problem with those who live that life, but to be forced into it . . . " she shook her head.

"Where are the children anyway?" McGonagall asked.

"With Arthur in London," Molly replied. "He got his hands on a new car and he's like a child with a new toy. Insists on driving it everywhere. They'll be visiting Arthur's mother--she and I never got on--then to Fred and

George's for a quick visit and then over to Surrey to fetch Harry." She refilled her cup of tea. "Hermione will be arriving next week. But while I'm flattered you told me all this, Minerva, you haven't told me why you brought him here."

McGonagall sighed and stared at her teacup. "He's hiding something. I think there's more to why these things are here and why he's hunting them. Oh I have no doubt that they're dangerous or that his abilities make him the only one who can stand up to them one on one . . ."

"But?" Molly prompted.

"He won't tell me why they came here or where they came from. Or how he came by his abilities. Maybe he thinks that if I know everything, I'll turn him in. I don't know." She took a deep breath. "Molly, I haven't lived anywhere but Hogwarts for thirty-five years. There's nowhere else to put him. No where I can trust, anyway, and if this is going to work, he can't be in the castle and he can't be in Grimwauld Place."

"Because if you're going to sneak him in as a student, you can't afford to have Hagrid, Snape, or Filch seeing him, and figuring him for a non-student." Molly said, nodding agreement. "But he's no wizard. How are you going to get him in?"

"Its not widely known, but every year has a Squib or two," McGonagall said. A Squib was a witch or wizard with no powers. "They don't take classes like Defense Against the Dark Arts, or Transfiguration, but there's still plenty for them to learn." She smiled thinly. "And scheduling is the job of the Deputy Headmistress, after all."

Molly nodded. "An' how will he pay?" She asked. "He has no money and he'll need supplies."

"Crystal had money."

"You're joshing."

"No. I don't know how, but she had a vault at Gringotts and there's a fortune in there. If it was Muggle money, I'd say well over a million, possibly two."

"Cor," Molly breathed. "An' what will be his story, then?"

"A distant relative of mine," McGonagall said with a shrug. "Hogwarts is hosting exchange students from each country this year, and he'll be one of the representatives from Canada. His parents wanted to be sure he'd arrive safely so they sent him to me. He'll be taking Crystal's place on the roll. I've already changed the name."

"Plausible enough," Molly approved. Canadian Wizards lived more like Muggles then Wizards and Witches. They tended to be a close-mouthed lot, and kept to themselves. They were also far more accepting of things that the rest of the Wizarding World wasn't, such as werewolves and those with nonhuman or Muggle blood. It would cover any mistakes Gary might make that would betray his ignorance of the Wizarding World.

"There's one other thing," McGonagall said, her voice deadly serious. "You can't tell anyone. Not even Arthur. Lie if you have to, but what I've told you is to remain secret."

Molly's mouth fell open and then she shut it. "Are you mad? Bad enough I have to be keeping me mouth shut from the Order, but to lie to me own family?"

"I know, Molly. But there's far too much at stake. Which is why that if we are arrested, you're to turn on me and say I forced you."

"What?"

"You heard me," McGonagall said grimly. "I'm not going to drag you into this any more then I must. If anyone goes to Azkaban, it will be me. Tell them I forced you, because that's what I'm going to say. I intend to accept full and complete responsibility."

Molly Weasley stared down at her teacup for a full five minutes and then sighed. "It can't be harder then fighting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," she said with a laugh. "All right. I'll do it. I don't like it, mind, but I'll do it."

"Thank you, Molly," McGonagall said with a smile as she rose and crossed the room to the fireplace. Taking some powder from a pot, she threw it on the flames and stepped in, yelling "Hogwarts!" as she did so. The green flames leapt up and McGonagall vanished. Molly watched the flames die down and then cleared the table and set the dish brush to cleaning. Walking to the window, she watched Gary for a while. His expression was sad, in fact, he seemed depressed about something. That, at least, she knew how to handle.

Nodding to herself, she walked out to the garden to where he lay. "Up you go," she said cheerfully. He regarded her curiously, but got to his feet and Molly led him around the Burrow to the woodpile. "Best cure I know for a body with something on their mind," she said, nodding to the wood. "Dinner's in a few hours and we'll need..." she thought for a moment. "'Bout twenty bundles of logs or so. With about fifty in each in each bundle. Cut 'em in quarters, mind." She pulled the axe from the woodpile and handed it to him. "It's enchanted, so don't worry about dulling the edge. Off you go then." They didn't need that much wood, actually. The Burrow had five years worth laid in as it was. But it would give the boy something to do, and they could always use more wood. He stared at her for a moment, and then his lips quirked in an almost smile. He pulled off his shirt, and set up the first log. It split on his first chop. Molly watched him for a few minutes and then walked back inside the house to begin dinner.

The sun was setting when Harry Potter arrived at the Burrow. Harry was a short, skinny boy with glasses. He had green eyes and messy hair. He was often smoothing his bangs to hide the lightning shaped scar on his forehead.

On the seat next to him, Ronald Weasley leafed through a magazine he had picked up in Diagon Alley. In the front seat of the car, Mr. Weasley was talking to Ron's younger sister Ginny.

Harry liked the Burrow. He had to spend a few months at the house of the Dursleys every year and as far as Harry was concerned, nothing in the world was so miserable and boring as that. The Dursleys did not like magic and hated anything that might draw attention to them and give any clue that Harry was a wizard. In fact, they told everyone that Harry attended a school for the Criminally Insane or something like that. All Harry could remember was that it was called St. Brutus'.

On the seat between him and Ron, his snowy white owl Hedwig slept in her cage, head under her wing.

"Oi, Harry, lookit this," Ron said, passing him the magazine. "They've come out with another racing broom. Claims it's faster then the Firebolt." Harry started to read, but looked when Mr. Weasley announced that they had arrived at the Burrow.

"Who's that?" Ron asked as the car pulled around to the garage. Standing in the yard was a young man chopping wood. "Dad?"

"I don't know, Ron," Mr. Weasley replied as he parked.

Mrs. Weasley came out of the house as they got out. She gave each of them a kiss on the cheek. "Did you have a nice trip?" she asked.

"Yeah, but who's that?" Ron asked, pointing at the young man chopping wood.

"Oh that's Gary," Mrs. Weasley replied. "Professor McGonagall brought him. He'll be staying with us until term at Hogwarts starts. Now get your things inside."

Once Harry and Ron had put away their things, they drifted back to the woodpile. Gary was still there, chopping wood with an almost frightening single-minded intensity.

"Hi," Ron called. Gary looked up. His face was beaded with sweat and the undershirt he wore clung to him like a second skin.

"Hi," he said back. He talked strange, with an accent.

"I'm Ron," Ron said. "Ron Weasley."

"Gary. Gary Stuart."

"I'm Harry," Harry said. "Harry Potter." And then he braced himself.

Harry was the most famous person in the wizarding world and reactions to meeting him varied from the simple upward flick of the eyes to his scar to outright enthusiasm or disgust. Gary did nothing like that; in fact, there wasn't even a flicker of recognition. He only wiped his hand on his pants and shook their hands. He was a slightly taller then Harry, thin but athletic. He had messy brown hair and light blue eyes.

"You're American, aren't you?" Ron asked.

"Canadian. Not that it matters. Wherever you go, the--ah, there's similarities. Canada and America are pretty close friends and all." He put the axe on the woodpile and began bundling up the wood.

"What you chopping up wood for?" Ron asked. "The axe does it if you tell it to."

"I don't mind," Gary said with a shrug. "It's something to do."

A bell rang.

"That means dinner's ready," Ron said and the three of them headed towards the house.

Mr. Weasley asked Gary questions about Canada, but Gary either evaded them or gave vague answers, not that Mr. Weasley noticed. It was strange and Harry mentioned it to Ron as they got ready for bed that night.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "An' he nearly said something he shouldn't have out there at the pile, remember? Wonder what he almost said?"

"I don't know," Harry said as Ron turned out the light. Moments later, Harry heard Ron's breathing change and knew that he had gone to sleep.

Rolling onto his side, Harry watched the moon shine through the window and bathe the room in a pale light, washing out the bright orange of Ron's bedcovers. Harry loved Hogwarts. But after five years there, he had learned that the universe seemed to regard Harry Potter as the butt of its own private jokes. Every year, Harry had faced some crisis tied to the dark wizard known as Voldemort. He knew why now. At the end of the last school year, Professor Dumbledore had finally explained about the prophecy that had tied

him and Voldemort together. Looking back, he could see that much of what he had gone through had, through whatever pain Harry had felt, helped prepare him for what was coming.

Over the summer at the Dursleys', Harry had forced himself to face his future. One day, he would meet Voldemort in a Wizard's Duel, one that would only end when one of them was dead. Harry didn't like it, and he'd be lying if he said that he wasn't scared, but he would face his destiny.

As he drifted off to sleep, he recalled something his teacher at the elementary school he'd attended before Hogwarts had pinned to the wall behind her desk. It had been a quote from someone named Euripides; "Whom the gods wish to destroy, they first make mad."

Harry was fairly sure that mad did not mean angry.

There was always something to do at the Burrow. With only Ron and Ginny at home, there was a large list of chores. Harry was always glad to help, if only to repay the Weasleys

for all the generosity they had showed him. Gary, on the other hand, threw himself into the chores he was given with zeal. He was nice enough, but very silent.

He reminded Harry a little of Viktor Krum, a Bulgarian wizard Harry had met once. The difference being that Viktor spoke no more then he needed to. Gary, on the other hand, seemed to be working to avoid thinking.

Still, there was only so much work the Burrow needed and much of the day Gary spent with Harry and Ron walking around the land that the Burrow sat on.

"My Dad's great-grandfather's great grandfather bought this land from a general's widow in 1812," Ron told them on one such day. They had hiked to a small hill near the edge of the property which was topped by a large rock. The rock looked as though it had been there since the beginning of time and was worn smooth by the weather and generations of Weasleys climbing on it.

They had climbed on top of it and sat side by side, bottles of butterbeer in hand. "The general had gotten killed in the war and his widow didn't care to stay. Been in the family ever since. There used to be a bigger house here, but it caught fire and burned down to nothing in 1902. The Burrow was actually quarters for the farmhands." His face

fell. "Grandpa sold most of the land before Charlie was born. This is all that's left."

"I like it," Gary said. "It's . . . nice. Very different then from back home."

"Go on then," Ron said. "What's Canada like? Big and open I imagine."

Gary thought for a minute. "It's very cold," he said. "Except in the middle of summer. If you leave the towns and cities, you go armed, because its no man's land out there." His voice was haunted, and his eyes distant, as though he was seeing things they couldn't. "Even away from the cities, you can still smell the stench of pollution in the air like bad perfume. Not that you dare stay out that long. The DSA might get ideas and then--" He shook himself out of his reverie and smiled ruefully. "I'm fortunate I made the exchange program."

Ron shrugged and then noticed the setting sun. "Oi, we better be getting back. Mum gets frightful if you miss a meal."

Nimbly, he and Harry leapt down from the top of the rock, but Gary stayed where he was, staring down at the rock. He shifted around a bit. "Oi, mate," Ron said. "What's

wrong?"

"The rock moved when you guys jumped off," Gary said. "I felt it shift, just a bit."

"Go on," Ron said. "Tell us another one then."

"I think he's serious, Ron," Harry said.

Ron looked at them. "Then how come we didn't feel it?" He demanded. Harry shrugged. "I've been climbing that thing all my life and so have my brothers. Not once have we felt that thing move"

"Dunno."

"You're probably imagining things, mate," Ron said to Gary. "Come on then." Gary nodded and hopped down.

Hermione arrived just after breakfast via Floo Powder. She was sunburned and wore jeans and a T-shirt with Mickey Mouse on it that clung far to closely to her form. "I am completely jet lagged," Hermione said. "We only just got in and I had to run off to make it here in time for Harry's party."

"Where did you get the shirt, Hermione?" Ginny asked.

"We visited my aunt in Florida. She absolutely insisted I that I wear. . . this and Mum didn't want me to argue." Hermione shook her head.

Fred and George Weasley, Ron's older brothers, had already arrived along with Bill and Charlie, the eldest Weasley children. Only Percy was not in attendance.

After Fred and George had hauled Hermione's trunk upstairs, and Hermione had changed shirts, they sat around talking. Gary stayed off to one side, still not comfortable with the family, and tapped his finger idly on the tabletop while he stared off into space.

"Something on your mind?" Fred asked. "You're a million miles away."

"I just keep thinking about that rock. I know I felt it shift."

"Rock?" Bill asked.

"That big one atop the hill at the East side," Ron supplied. "We were sitting on it and Harry and I jumped off. He swears he felt it move when we did. Mental."

Bill, however was rubbing his chin. Bill worked as a curse-breaker in Egypt for Gringotts, the wizard bank. "It's possible," he said thoughtfully. "You'd be amazed how many traps hang on precisely balanced systems of gears and levers." He chuckled. "Ongen, my trainer, told me once of some Gringotts curse-breakers who spent a week all but tearing apart a Mayan pyramid looking for gold. They finally started analyzing the walls and found the doorway behind a wall that was a tenth of a degree off with the rest of the

pyramid. It was easy once that was worked out." He rubbed his chin some more. "Let me get my tools."

Minutes later, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Bill, Charlie, Gary, Fred, George, Ginny and Mr. Weasley left the Burrow and walked out to the hill. Once there, Bill set up his instruments and had Harry, Ron, and Gary repeat what they'd done yesterday.

"Nothing," Bill announced.

"Told you," Ron said beaming.

"I felt it again," Gary said.

"You sure?" Bill asked skeptically.

"Honestly," Hermione said, rolling her eyes skyward. "Why not just move the darn thing?"

The Weasleys exchanged looks. After some discussion, Fred, George, and Charlie were sent back to the barn for some tools and work began in earnest. The rock was a local landmark and Mr. Weasley would not let them simply roll the rock down the hill. So, the Weasleys, and Hermione stood back and cast Wingardium Leviosa, allowing Harry and Gary to lever and then lift the rock up onto its side. They then attached two pieces of crystal to the rock, which Bill said would keep it upright. Then they all gathered around.

Poking up through the dirt was a single sharp cone of stone. It was barely visible. "There's an unbreakable charm on it," Bill said. "Bout two hundred years old or so." He stood there, looking from the giant rock to the stone cone. "I suppose its possible," he mused after a while. "They must have been bloody geniuses though. This is some nice application of physics."

"What?"

"Physics," Bill said. "A sort of Muggle Math. Basically, that cone kept the rock just off balance enough that you could move it with a Levitation spell and some effort. The rock had to be placed just precisely so for it to work though, which is a bugger to work out." He pointed at the mud and dirt around the cone. "Unbreakable charm or no, though, the weight of the rock sank it into the dirt, and that fooled my instruments." He shook his head once more. "Amazing."

"All right, so it's a rock, why go through all the trouble of hiding it?" Ginny asked.

Harry shrugged. "Only one way to find out," he said, and picked up a shovel.

By the time Mrs. Weasley had joined them with refreshments, Harry, Ron, the twins and Gary had managed to excavate most of the cone. It appeared that whoever had set it up and gone through the trouble of clearing out a space for it to rest in. Bill theorized that the winter storms had sluiced in mud and filled the space up. After breaking for a picnic lunch, they went back to work and a few hours later, found that the cone was the lid to a huge stone cube.

At that point, everyone got out of the hole and Bill went to work. After carefully examining every inch of the cube and cone, he climbed out, took out a quill and parchment, and made a number of notes. "It's hexed and cursed," he explained. "Bloody tricky to break. Doable, though."

He handed the quill and parchment to Hermione and then took one of his tools and climbed back in. He then ran the tool over each inch of the stone, calling out numbers as he did, which Hermione wrote down.

He looked at the numbers and then called for several more tools to be handed down to him. "Basically, it's like a lock," he said. "But you have to break the curses and undo the hexes in exactly the right order or . . . " he trailed off. "It wouldn't be good," he finished. "You can do it right quick if you know the order," he continued. "But if you have to puzzle it out, it can take longer."

"A combination lock," Harry said. The Weasleys looked at him blankly. "It's a Muggle device," Harry explained. "Rather then a key, you have to spin this dial to one number, then you spin it to another number, and then spin it to a third number and it has to be the right numbers. If you do it right, the lock opens."

Bill grinned. "I like that," he said. "It's a good analogy."

The hours ticked by and no one suggested packing it in. They were all very curious, but no one suggested that Bill hurry up. At one point, he had recited the unofficial curse-breaker motto, mostly as a mantra against frustration; "A curse breaker in a hurry dies quickly." But finally, as the sun began to hang low in the sky, he pronounced the puzzle solved.

"There twelve of them," he said. "Six hexes, and six curses, with one each being fatal. You can't break each one as you go, because some of them actually reactivate ones you already broke. I'm going to write this one up when we get home. This is right up there with the curses on the Pharaohs' tombs." He tapped the cone with his wand. "Open," he commanded. Obediently, the cone and part of the box rose up, revealing an old wooden chest about the size of Harry's school trunk. It took Charlie and

Mr. Weasley's ("Bloody heavy") combined efforts to levitate it out and set it on the ground.

Whoever had made the box had been a master at their craft. The wood and iron were of the finest quality and the lid was emblazoned with a fox made of real silver and gold. It was locked with a single rusty padlock that defied opening, even with magic.

"Great," Ron complained. "All that work and we can't even see what's inside."

"Why not try Muggle Magic?" Gary asked.

"Muggle magic?" Harry asked.

In response, Gary handed Ron a rock and Ron went to work. In the end, it took seven hits before the lock finally snapped open. With trembling hands, he removed the lock and opened the lid.

Ten jaws dropped. Inside were gold and silver coins, jewelry, and gems. More then any of them had ever seen in their lives with the possible exception of Bill, but even he was shocked.

"Lordy," Mrs. Weasley breathed, breaking the silence. "Lordy, Lordy, Lordy."

Bill picked up one of the gold coins. "Well isn't that interesting?" He showed them the coin. "See that? That's the face of King George the Third."

"The Unbreakable Charm was about two hundred years old, you said," Hermione pointed out.

"Well let's get this home then," Fred said. While the others cleaned up, Bill, Charlie and Mr. Weasley set the rock back down and then they all trooped back to the Burrow, where they celebrated with a splendid dinner.

"But who would have buried this much treasure and then just left it there?" Ron asked.

"I don't know," Mr. Weasley answered. "Certainly not a Weasley--we never had this much."

"Wait, Dad," Bill said. "Didn't you tell us that there used to be a highwayman or something around here?"

"Ah yes," Mr. Weasley said. "I can't say I remember much of the story. Let me see, he called himself . . . " he trailed off and looked at the box, eyes widening. "He called himself the Silver Fox. He robbed bank coaches, government officials and any rich folks foolish enough to travel alone. Never killed anyone, but robbed them clean. Rumor had it he was a disillusioned military officer who was striking back at some of George's less then . . . sterling policies. Then abruptly, sometime around 1812, the Silver Fox disappeared and was never heard from again."

"That's right!' Harry exclaimed as he turned to Ron. "You told us your ancestor bought this land from the widow of a General who died in the war."

"Makes sense," Charlie said. "Generals weren't the sort of people who would normally be associated with highway robbery. The authorities would have been looking at the lower ranking people in the area and ignored him completely. The perfect cover."

"But then who set the traps?" Hermione asked.

"She's got a point," Bill said. "Those traps on the block were set by one hell of a wizard."

"No mystery there," Mr. Weasley said. "Many wizards, most of them Muggle born, served in the army or navy back then. Many still do. I think I'll go into London tomorrow and check the Ministry Library. He should be easy enough to find."

"I'll go with you," Fred said. "I want to check on the shop anyways." The Weasley Twins owned a joke shop they had named Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. It was quite popular and the twins were happy as they could be. They were doing something they loved and even their mother, who had wanted them to join their father at the Ministry, was pleased with their success.

"I'll go down to the village library," Hermione said. "My dad told me that story once and something's not quite sounding right."

And so, right after breakfast, Fred and Mr. Weasley left by Floo powder for London and Hermione, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny walked into the village. George and Charlie, with help from Bill, sat down to itemize and catalogue the gems, coins, and jewelry for deposit into the Weasley vault at Gringotts.

This left Harry, Ron, and Gary at loose ends, so Ron and Harry practiced Quidditch while Gary watched. Quidditch was the sport of wizards. It was played on broomsticks and was very fast and very dangerous.

Harry and Ron were on their House's Quidditch team at Hogwarts. With no balls, Harry caught apples Gary threw at him and then attempted to throw them past Ron, who used his broom to knock them away. They spent several hours before they tired and returned to the Burrow.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Hermione, Ginny, and Fred returned a few minutes later and Fred was trying not to laugh about something. He went immediately to his twin and whispered in his ear. George's eyes widened and then he too, tried not to laugh.

"Well share the joke, then," Ron said.

"The general was no wizard," Fred said. "But his wife was a witch."

"You mean they were a team?" Harry asked.

"No," Hermione corrected, waving a page of notes. "The earliest accounts of the Silver Fox describe a masked woman. It was only later that they said it was a man. I suppose being robbed by a woman was an assault on their pride."

Fred and George began snickering loudly. "She wasn't just any woman," Fred said. "She was a noble. A baroness. The youngest daughter of a very respectable family which exists to this day . . . though the title's bloody useless, even if they claimed it." George's snickers became sniggers.

"Which family?" Hermione asked. Neither twin answered. "Well?" Hermione demanded, getting impatient.

Fred and George drew up and said the name.

"Granger."

Hermione fainted.


	3. Expanding the Family

Trying to get rid of me are you?

Exorcisms? Ha!

I'm no demon, kid. Nope. But my tentacles are wrapped around your brain- stem and spinal cord. Know what that means? It means you die if I want. One little squeeze and poof! The heart stops working. Or better yet, the lungs.

Every little thing your brain tells your body to do I know about.

Don't worry, you're more useful alive. Trust me, kid. You and I? We're going places.

* * *

After Hermione woke up and had had a cup of tea, Mr. Weasley brought up the matter of the treasure. Since, he argued, Hermione's ancestor had buried the treasure, it was hers. Hermione, however, wanted no part of it. It was, in her opinion, blood money.

In the end, the money was divided up into three parts. The Weasley's took most of it. Hermione (reluctantly and only at Ron and Harry's urging) took enough to pay for the rest of her schooling at Hogwarts and the rest, which Bill calculated was worth roughly a thousand Galleons, went to Saint Mungo's hospital as charity.

A few days later, the Hogwarts letters arrived as they were eating breakfast. By then, the twins had returned to London, Bill to Egypt, and Charlie to Romania, where he worked with dragons. Gary's envelope was quite thick. When he opened it, a belt buckle fell into his hand. It was the Canadian flag replicated in burnished steel and colored enamel.

"What's that, Mate?" Ron asked.

"Something I needed," Gary replied. "Professor McGonagall was kind enough to make the arrangements for it's delivery." He slid the buckle into his pocket and began reading his supply list.

"Well, no sense in waiting around," Mrs. Weasley said. "Get dressed, everyone, it's time to go to Diagon Alley."

"We're going into the fireplace?" Gary asked when they had all gotten dressed and stood at the fireplace.

"You've never traveled by Floo Powder?" Ron asked.

Gary shook his head and took a deep breath. "What do I do?"

"Go first, Harry," Ron said. "Show him how it's done."

"Don't sneeze," Harry advised Gary as he walked towards the fireplace. "I sneezed the first time I used it and wound up at Knockturn Alley." He took a handful of powder and cast it into the flames. "Diagon Alley!"

Gary blinked as Harry vanished. "Wow."

"Go on, then," Mrs. Weasley said to Gary. "Don't be nervous."

Gary took the powder and then cast it into the fireplace. "Diagonally!"

"He's in where?" Ron asked as he, Harry, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley hurried through Diagon Alley. Ginny had been left in the care of the twins at their joke shop.

"Knockturn Alley, I think," Mrs. Weasley said as they stopped at Knockturn's entrance.

"Scary place," Ron noted as they looked into the dingy darkness. At that point, from somewhere in the depths, a woman screamed. There were more shouts and then the bright flashes of spells being cast.

Moments laster, a wizard dressed entirely in black ran out of the alley, his robes in rags, long bloody scratches down his face and arms. "Demon!" he shrieked as he ran past. "Demon in Knockturn Alley!"

"Demon?" Harry asked.

Other witches and wizards scrambled out of Knockturn, their clothes in various states, all of them obviously in a state of fear and terror. More shouts were heard and then there was the flash of fire and smoke belched out of the alley entrance as though it was a chimney. Six wizards hurried past them into the Alley, wands out. There were more flashes of spells and more shouts.

"We might want to get back, dears," Molly said nervously. Hermione had already withdrawn to the edges of the rapidly forming crowd.

"But Gary might be down there," Ron pointed out.

"There's not much we can do for him," Mrs. Weasley replied.

"She's right, Weasley," growled a voice. An older wizard with a heavily scarred face stood nearby. One of his eyes was a brillant blue and moved in the socket seemingly of it's own accord. Left, right, even backwards at though it was looking out the back of his head. "If your friend is down there, we'll find him."

"Hello, Professor Moody," Harry said.

"Potter," Moody said in acknowledgement and then looked back at Ron. "Best you be out of here," he said. Nearby, other wizards were dispersing the crowd. "If there is a demon down there, you don't want to be nearby if it gets bored and comes up here."

"He's right," Mrs. Weasley said. "Come along, children." She nodded. "Alastor."

"Molly," Moody replied and turned back to look at the alley.

"Wow," Ron said, "a demon. I'd love to be down there."

"No you don't," Hermione said. "I've read about fighting demons. It's a job for only the most experienced wizards...which neither one of you are."

"Quite right," Mrs. Weasley sniffed.

They found Gary sitting outside a sweet shop, a lollipop in his mouth and talking to Luna Lovegood of all people.

"Hello," she said to them as they ran up, "is there something wrong?"

"Where did you wind up?" Mrs. Weasley shrieked, grabbing Gary and pulling him into a hug.

"Mgurph," Gary replied. "Gurglemumph!"

"And look at you!" Mrs. Weasley continued, pushing Gary out to arm's length and staring at him. "Are you all right?"

Gary pulled the lollipop from his mouth and took a breath. "I'm fine," he said. "Wound up in this off shoot. Knock something."

"Is that blood?" Hermione said, pointing at Gary's eye.

Harry looked. A spot of something red lay near the corner of Gary's left eye.

"Blood?" Gary asked, giving the impression of someone doing very fast thinking.

"Wait, you were in Knockturn Alley?" Ron excitedly broke in. "Did you see the demon? How did you get out?"

"Demon?" Gary asked and then his face brightened. "Is that what the screaming was about? Some guy pushed past me as I was trying to get out, screaming the whole time. It's probably his." He started to pull a handkerchief from his pocket and then stopped as Luna began wiping at the spot, a slight blush forming on his cheeks. "Ah, thank you."

"It's important to be clean and well dressed," Luna said with a nod. "Are you shopping?"

"For Hogwarts," Harry said. Secretly, he was pleased. Luna seemed to be less shy then she'd been the previous year. The D.A. seemed to have been good for her. "Would you like to come along?"

Luna shook her head and held up a crystal. "I need to recharge this." She sat back down in front of the sweet shop. "So much positive energy here."

"Okay," Gary said. "Will you be at Hogwarts too? I am. I mean, I'm a student. At least for this year. Did I say that?"

"Come on," Hermione said, grabbing Gary by the collar and pulling him away.

"Bye, Luna," Harry said. Luna did not respond.

"I'm beat," Harry said, sitting down on the floor of Flourish and Blott's.

"Tell me about it," Ron said, massaging his own feet. "We've been all over Diagon Alley."

"Odd," Hermione said, musingly.

"What is?" Ron asked, pulling his shoes back on.

"Gary." The bushy-haired girl's tone was thoughtful. "Look at the way he's standing."

Harry and Ron looked. Gary stood in the line of students to buy books. His basket sat at his feet and he stood with his hands clasped behind his back, feet apart. His expression was blank and he looked quite prepared to spend all day in that pose.

Harry's eyes narrowed. He couldn't explain it, but he was suddenly quite sure that Gary, at some point, had spent an entire day standing like that. In fact, more then one day.

To be quite honest about it, he was fairly sure that Gary would be quite at home in a military uniform.

"What about Gary?" Ron asked.

"Oh . . ." Hermione groaned. "Look at him, Ron. Nobody stands like that. No one civilain, anyway."

"What's a civilian?" Ron asked.

In line, Gary suddenly slumped his shoulders and stuffed his hands into his pockets, as though realizing he'd been doing something he shouldn't.

And so summer marched on. Gary often vanished for the whole day and the Burrow would get owls from Fred and George, gleefully reporting that they had seen Gary in Diagon Alley with Luna Lovegood.

Mrs. Weasley thought it was the greatest thing. Ron was baffled. "How could he fancy Luna?" he would ask anyone who would listen. Hermione tried to explain it to him, but at last gave up.

September First dawned clear and cold and the Burrow exploded into chaos. Or at least it looked like chaos. After five years with the Weasleys, Harry had learned that the chaos was more along the lines of a Qudditch match- very fast and apparently random, adapting as time passed. However, underneath was a well thought out strategy. By eight, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione's trunks were parked by the door, fully packed and they were inspecting their rooms to be sure that nothing had been left behind.

Gary had somehow managed to pack his things into a large duffel which lay across the trunks. Of course, considering he didn't have much in the way of personal items, it was fairly easy. He was the last downstairs. He wore what the muggles called cargo pants tucked into black boots. His shirt was faded gray and he wore an old denim jacket. On the middle finger of his right hand was a large signet ring.

"What's that?" Ron asked as they sat down to eat breakfast. He peered with intense interest at the ring and it was easy to see why.

It was silver and set with a rectangle of black onyx. Etched into the onyx was the head-on suggestion of a hawk in silver, surrounded by flames of gold. The hawk seemed to be wearing an expression that dared the veiwer to try their luck. The band was etched with a strange design that seemed to subtly change if Harry watched it for too long.

Gary glanced at the ring. "The Academy gives these only to a select few-- those who had proven themselves to...have the right stuff." He shrugged. "I felt like wearing it today."

"You mean you were a prefect?" Harry asked.

"Something like that."

"It's gorgeous," Hermimone said.

"Thanks," Gary said as he poured syrup on his pancakes.

The journey to King's Cross was singularly uneventful, as was getting onto Platform nine and three-quarters.

As usual, the platform was crowded with Hogwarts students.

Harry, Ron and Hermione moved towards the train, waving hello to their friends. Ginny was whisked away by several other fifth years and a few minutes later, Gary dropped his duffel on Ron's cart and took off, saying he'd meet them on the train.

"Probably saw Luna," Ron joked and then suddenly froze, staring into the crowd. Then he whipped around, stared at Harry, and then looked back at the crowd, then back at Harry. "Mental," he muttered, shaking his head.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.

"This..." Ron trailed off and looked around before beckoning Harry and Hermione closer. This...this is going to sound nutters, but...I swear I just saw Harry in the crowd."

"That's ridiculous," Hermione said. "Harry's right here."

"I know. Like I said, it sounds nutters."

"Hello," said a voice behind them. Ron looked and then leapt backwards. Harry and Hermione turned and Harry's jaw dropped.

Standing before them was a young girl. She was very beautiful, with black hair that came down to her ankles and pale skin that reminded Harry of moonlight. Her eyes were emerald green and guiless and on her forehead...

Harry swallowed hard. On her forehead was a lightning shaped scar.

Harry could have been looking into a mirror, except that there was no mistaking the shape under the clothes.

"My name is Helena," she said softly. "Helena Potter. I'm your sister."

As Harry tried to marshal his thoughts, a whistle blew.

"Last call!" bellowed the conductor. "All aboard!"

"Oh, no!" Hermione said and she began to run towards the train.

"Come on, Harry!" Ron called.

Harry couldn't move, still too stunned to react.

"Come on, brother," Helena said. "We can't miss the train." Her words seemed to snap Harry out of his daze.

"Oh, right." Harry said and ran for it. Helena ran after him.

Intent on getting on board, neither Ron, Hermione, or even Harry noticed Helena's eyes flash in triumph...and just for a moment, they were full of inhuman malice.

Because they were prefects, Ron and Hermione had to go forward to the Prefect's car to receieve instructions from the Head Boy and Girl.

Harry and Helena found an empty compartment where they began to talk.

Helena explained that she had been raised by distant realatives in America. Apparently, a rather vague procephy had been made about her, hinting at some great destiny, so their parents had sent her away.

"It's like Star Wars," she explained. "If you didn't stop Voldemort, there's still me."

"Star Wars?" Harry asked. Outside the train, the express had left King's Cross and was steadily steaming through London.

"Farmboy saves the cosmos," Gary said as he breezed into the compartment. "Turns out he had a sister who had been hidden away to prevent the bad guys from destroying the only hope in existence." He flopped on the seats. "It's called separated at birth and it's been played out tirelessly on soap operas."

Harry couldn't argue there. Aunt Petunia loved watching soap operas. Occasionally there was something interesting, but for the most part, they seemed to continuously recycle old stories.

"But it does happen," Helena pointed out.

"Not often enough to not be contrived," Gary said with a smile that could have charitably been called nasty. "Oh. I'm Gary Stuart by the way."

"Helena Potter," Helena replied as she and Gary locked eyes. The very air between them seemed to freeze. "Harry's sister."

"So you are," Gary said, smiling that same smile and looked at Harry. "Sorry about disappearing like that, there was something I needed to talk to someone about." He pulled the deck of cards from his pocket and began to shuffle.

"Can I ask what?" Helena asked.

"Nothing important. It's a dead issue now."

Gary leaned back in the chair, singing softly to himself as he continued to shuffle the cards; "So cower low and close your eyes, be very very scared. It's time to sort the Mary-Sues, so get your sporks prepared."

Ron and Hermione returned just after the trolley cart had made it's rounds. Harry and Helena had exchanged their life stories by then. Gary had more or less ignored them as he sat on the floor playing solitaire, a lollipop in his mouth. Occasionally, he had made snide remarks in response to Helena's words. In the back of his mind, Harry was positive that there was a second conversation going on in the room.

"You're going to be sorted," Ron informed Gary as he took a Chocolate Frog from the pile of candy. "They want the exchange students to have the full Hogwarts experience."

"Sorted?"

"Yeah. You put this old hat on your head and it tells you which house you're supposed to be in. Looks inside your head and stuff." Ron shuddered slightly. "It's weird feelin."

"Sounds fun," Gary said. "I wonder what it will find inside my head?" He looked up at Helena. "What do you think, Hel?"

"Helena," she corrected. "And I expect that it will find good reason not to sort you at all and expel you from the school."

"Probably," Gary agreed and laid down the ace of spades. "Wonder what it'll find in yours?" He took another card from the deck and looked at it. "The proverbial wild card. Wonder how it got overlooked?" He tossed away the card and it landed at Helena's feet. It was a joker and its grin seemed slightly menacing. "What do you think, Harry? What's inside your sister's head?"

Helena stared at him and then looked at Harry. "Excuse me for a moment, brother." She looked at Hermione. "Which way are the bathrooms?"

"Middle of the car," Hermione said.

"Thank you." Helena rose to her feet and exited the compartment.

Gary snickered.

The instant the compartment door closed, Helena took off at a run. She didn't bother with the bathrooms but instead looked into several other compartments and then ran to a compartment in the next car which she threw open and darted inside, slamming the door behind her.

Inside, several girls from various countries looked up at her. Like Helena, they were all very beautiful even if they seemed far too skinny for their body shapes.

"You're supposed to be charming Potter," snapped one of them. She was tall and thin, with fiery red hair.

"I'm sorry, Meghan," Helena said. "But I need to talk to Kalia, it's important."

"Kalia has entered deep cover and even if she hadn't, nothing justifies leaving your assignment," Meghan said. "Explain yourself."

"The Weasley's took on a house-guest; Gary Stuart. One of the exchange students, from Canada. I think he's a D.S.A. Spork." The others sat up straight, alarm in their eyes. "And I can't find Amanda or Crystal," Helena continued.

"Are you sure?" one of the other girls asked.

"Not completely, but he is wearing a signet ring with the Firehawk emblem on it."

"It could be a coincidence," another girl pointed out. "We killed all the Sporks before we left."

"And the fabrication labs were blown up with the scientists."

Meghan, however, was frowning. "It's always possible we missed something or someone."

"Even if we did, how did they send him here? Mari--"

"Shut up," Meghan said. "Let me think."

"Why?" asked one of the others, a very tall girl with an expression of pure nastiness. "I'll take care of him." she started to get up, but Meghan waved her back down.

"This is neither the time or place, Kat," Meghan said and then sighed. "We'll continue as planned. Helena. Find Serenity and tell her what you told us. Describe him to her and tell her to pass it along to the rest of us. On my authority, we're not, repeat, not aborting."

"But what will we do about him?"

"At the moment, nothing. He's not to be terminated. Understand? Do. Not. Terminate."

"Yes."

"Good. The last thing we should do is draw attention."

"But I like attention, Megs," purred a dark haired girl who was wearing a white button down shirt and a very short skirt.

"That's Meghan, you cocktease," Meghan said. "Now shut up." She looked at Helena. "Once you've talked to Serenity, get back to Potter and his friends. Try to befriend Stuart and even if you can't, see what you can find out about him." Helena nodded and left.

"Why do you keep needling her?" Harry demanded as soon as Helena had left. "She hasn't done anything to you."

"I know, I can't help it. There's something about her that just pisses me off," Gary said as he retrieved the joker and reshuffled the cards. "Poker?" he said to Ron. "We can use these beans as chips." He indicated the box of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans.

"What's poker?" Ron asked.

Gary's grin got big. "The game of time, my friend. The game of time."

Harry crouched down between Gary and Ron. "What do you mean you can't help it?"

"Ever meet someone and you instantly hate them? They didn't do anything, just something about them makes you want bash in their skulls?" Harry thought about the first time he'd met Draco.

"Yeah--wait, are you--"

"It's not that bad with your sister," Gary continued, "but I can't say I care for her much." He sighed. "Look, Harry, you're my friend. I can't say I'll be her friend...but I'll try to get along with her."

Harry stared at him for the longest time, searching his face and then he nodded. "Okay."

At that moment, Helena returned and crouched next to her brother. "Gary...I've done some thinking, and we got off on the wrong foot. For Harry's sake, I'd like us to be friends. Truce?"

Gary looked at her a moment. "Truce."

Helena nodded. "Deal me in?"

Gary looked at her for a moment and then smiled chillingly. "Why not?" He drew five cards and passed them over. "Ante up..."

"Four queens, Ron said as he smiled with satisfaction and leaned over to rake in the beans. Just then, the compartment door slid open.

"Well, well, well," Draco Malfoy drawled as he stepped through the door. He had already donned his school robes and his Slytherin Prefects badge gleamed in the compartment's lamplight. "Hello, Potter."

"Go away, Malfoy," Harry snapped, rising to his feet as Hermione and Ron both stood up and drew their wands.

"Or what, Potter?"

"Or deal with me," Helena said, stepping in front of Harry.

Draco's eyes traveled over her form, lingered on her chest and then settled on her face. "Who are you?" he demanded.

"Helena Potter. Harry's sister."

"Potter has no sister." Draco snarled. "Not that it matters, you'll be dead along with everyone--"

"Hey! Fairy boy!" Gary said. He had reshuffled the cards and now was playing a game of solitaire. "You mind? I'm concentrating here."

"Who the hell are you?" Draco asked.

"A friend of the Weasley's," Gary replied, not even looking up from his game. "Now bug off. I'm busy."

"And if I don't?" Draco asked softly as he kicked the cards already laid out.

Harry blinked. One moment Gary had been sitting crosslegged on the floor, the next he was on his feet and staring Draco in the eye. Harry was sure he hadn't seen Gary move. It was just one moment he was seated, the next he was on his feet. Like he had Apparated or something. He had also gone very, very still, like he was about to suddenly lash out. But it was Gary's eyes that sent a chill down Harry's spine. They were cold and empty, the eyes of a killer.

Crabbe and Goyle started forwards and Draco's hand moved, ordering them to stay put.

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, both asking each other the same thing. When had Draco grown a spine? He normally hid behind his father's name, his family's wealth, or Crabbe and Goyle. He was a coward. Why hadn't he reacted?

"So Potter has another friend does he?" Draco asked. "You'll die too at the Dark Lord's hand."

Gary smiled. It was a chill smile of death and he said something too soft for Harry to hear, but it caused Draco to take a half step back.

"You'll regret that," Draco snarled and left the compartment, Crabbe and Goyle following close behind.

"I regret a lot of things," Gary said and sat back down on the floor to gather up the cards.

Hermione glanced out the window at the raindrops splattering against the compartment window and the dark night. "We'll be at Hogwarts soon," she said thoughtfully. "We'd better change."

She and Helena left the compartment and Harry, Ron, and Gary exchanged looks and then shrugged and began removing their jackets.

When Hermione and Helena returned, Luna had joined them.

"Hello," Luna said.

"Er..." Gary said, looking anywhere but at Luna. "Uh, hi." If Luna noticed, she gave no sign.

Outside the train, lightning flashed.

"How much longer, d'ya think?" Ron asked Hermione.

Hermione, however, was glaring at Gary and Helena. "Those," she said. "Are not the Hogwarts uniforms!"

Indeed, Gary was wearing a hooded coat fastened across his chest by a silver chain connected to a silver disc on each side of his chest. Under that was a white turtleneck, black pants and boots. A potions knife hung from his belt on the left side. Black armbands circled his wrists, keeping the sleeves from flapping everywhere. The coat was black on the outside, red on the inside.

Helena wore a blue robe over a white button down shirt, gray sweater vest and skirt.

"The letter said we were to wear the uniforms of our home schools upon arrival at Hogwarts," Helena said.

"They wear that where you went to school?" Hermione asked Gary.

Gary just grinned.

When the last first year had been sorted, Professor Dumbledore stood up. "As you have no doubt heard, We are hosting students from other schools of magic worldwide. Some of them you have already met on the train. In order to provide them with a the full Hogwarts experience, so to speak, they will be sorted into houses."

The doors to the great hall opened and about fifty or so students filed in, most of them girls, and gathered at front of the hall.

"When I call your name," Professor McGonagall said, "Step forward, I will place the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted." She produced a second roll of parchment and read out loud. "Anderson, Bellamina Boston." A girl with soft curves, wavy auburn hair and ivory white skin stepped forward.

"Ravenclaw!" the hat shouted and the Ravenclaws applauded.

"Bach, Febreeze, Arabella."

"Hufflepuff!"

"Hurry up," Ron moaned softly under his breath as "Crinslow, Meaghan" became a Slytherin. Something about her bothered Harry. Meghan's eyes were cold and cruel and as she slid off the stool, her eyes flicked over the students as though choosing a cut of meat at the butcher's.

"All you can think about is the feast," Hermione said as McGonagall called forth more names. "Honestly."

"Po..." McGonagall started and then stared at the parchment. "Potter, Helena."

Whispers exploded throughout the hall as Helena stepped forward and sat on the stool and all the teachers stared, dumbfounded. Unperturbed, Helena sat there as McGonagall placed the hat on her head.

"Gryffindor!" declared the hat a moment later and the table exploded with applause. As Helena sat down across the table from Harry and Ron, she smiled. "It's wonderful to be here," she said to Harry, I know we're going to have a wonderful time."

"Schimdt, Kat, was declared a Slytherin, and moments later, the hall went deadly quiet again as McGonagall called out "Snape, Sakura." and the hat couldn't seem to decide between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Dumbledore declared that she should sit at the Ravenclaw table for the time being and a final decision would be made after the feast.

Gary was declared a Gryffindor and the rest of the exchange students were quickly sorted, though Welkin, Celestia, had to be seated at the Hufflepuff table when the hat couldn't decide between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.

"I believe the announcements can wait," Dumbledore declared and spread his hands. "Dig in."

Gary nearly jumped out of his seat as the food appeared on the table. "This is ours?"

"Yep," Ron said, his mouth full of chicken. "Help yourself."

"It's not a feast for nothing," Helena said.

Gary, however, took only modest portions and then picked up a pitcher of butterbeer and peered inside. "What's this?"

"Butterbeer," Ron said. "And that's pumpkin juice over there."

"Butterbeer?" Gary seemed skeptical but poured a glass anyway.

"You need to eat more," Hermione pointed out. "If not now then before classes tomorrow. You'll need it."

Gary looked at her a moment, a skeptical look on his face.

"You don't eat much do, you, mate?" Ron asked.

Gary shook his head. "At the academy, we had to supply most of our food. Squirrel's pretty good if you season it right."

"They made you hunt food?" Hermione was aghast.

"And cook it. Every student was expected to be able to forage and live off the land. And we weren't allowed to eat much. Students who ate too much were punished. After a while, it becomes habit."

"God," Hermione whispered in shock. "How did you survive?"

"Dunno," Gary said with a shrug as he looked over the table and then selected a ham steak. "When in Rome," he said and dug in, all the while, watching behind him as though half expecting one of the teachers to descend on him and hand out detention.

After dessert, Dumbledore rose.

"I bid you all welcome to Hogwarts," He said. "As always, the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to all students. Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has advised me that in view of last year, the list of Banned Items now numbers five hundred and is available in his office should you wish to see it."

"Not likely," Dean Thomas called out and everyone laughed.

"Also," Dumbledore said, "The mid-winter Qudditch match has been rescheduled to spring."

"How come?" Ron burst out.

"A very good question, Mr. Weasley. As you know, Hogwarts has a great deal of magic around it, which is why many Muggle devices simply will not work here. Every so often, that magical energy needs to be . . . expunged as it were. Sort of like clearing dust and cobwebs. So, just after the Holiday break, Hogwarts will be temporarily cut off from the rest of the world for about twenty-four hours." He gazed around the room. "And now, the school song, for few things can compare to music. Everyone pick their favorite tune and off we go."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione typically tried to ignore the horrific spectacle of the school song, but Gary joined Dean and Seamus Finnegan standing on the bench and belting out the school song in operatic three part harmony. Or at least, that's what they were attempting. Ginny observed that they sounded more like a catfight.

"Bravo," Dumbledore said when the last notes had faded away. "And now, off to bed, all of you."

As the students began to file out the room, Ron grabbed Gary's sleeve and whispered something in his ear. Gary nodded and then hurried to catch up with Luna.

"What did you tell him?" Hermione asked.

"The password. I figured he wanted to walk Luna to Ravenclaw's tower," Ron said and then raised his voice. "Oi! All first years, over here! Gryffindor first years, this way!"

That night...

Sakura cried out as she hit the wall and slid down it to sit on the floor. Fearfully, she looked up at Meghan, who was staring down at her with an expression of apocalyptic fury.

"Snape?" Meghan demanded. "Sakura Snape? That's what you came up with?"

"Sn-Snape was on the ta-target list..." Sakura stammered.

"AS A SEDUCTION, YOU IDIOT!" Meghan screamed. "You're supposed to seduce him, not masquerade as his daughter!" Swearing, she stomped back and forth across the empty classroom they had chosen to meet in. All the Sues at Hogwarts were present.

"She could still seduce him," Tawnee Vern said. Tawnee was a shapley dark- haired girl who's thoughts were never far from dirty. Like Meghan, Kat, and Sakura, she was in Slytherin and there were rumors that she had already seduced her roommates and grappled with both Crabbe and Goyle on the train. "She's got the bod."

"You're sick," Helena said.

"I prefer direct."

"I thought it would be better," Sakura said. "If he sees me as family rather then a lover."

"You thought?" Meghan demanded. "No, you don't think. None of you think! I make the decisions around here!"

"No," Kat said, striding forward. "Kalia's mission commander and we have only your word that she left you in charge while she's off under deep cover." She turned to the others. "She treats us like morons, screams constantly and insults us. Why the hell should we follow her?"

There were mutterings of agreement.

Meghan's lips twitched in a smirk. "Is that so?" The next thing anyone knew, Kat was lying on the ground moaning in pain and Meghan was looking at her contempuously. "Let's clear this up once and for all," Meghan said. "I'm in charge until Kalia says otherwise. The next one of you miserable fuck-ups who challenges my authority is going to be torn out of their host and fed to that three-headed dog. Is that clear?" She glared around the room and watched with satisfaction as everyone nodded. "Now, you all saw a guy named Gary Stuart be sorted, right? Well there's a chance he's a Spork. Helena has been trying to find out for sure."

"Ninety-five percent positive," Helena said. "At dinner, he talked about his old school, and he mentioned things that only the D.S.A. did to train cadets. He also has a ring with the emblem of the Firehawks on it." She frowned. "Crystal wasn't on the train, and neither was Amanda. But I spoke to Amanda right before I revealed myself to Potter."

"Crystal is presumed lost," Meghan said. "Amanda as well, it seems."

"He would have had to have killed Amanda on the platform and hide the body without anyone noticing," Aroha Maruapo mused. "Then get back on the train in fresh clothes. And he would have had to do it in the space of a few minutes."

Bellamina Anderson nodded. "He's not infantry then."

"A specialist. I hate specialists," someone muttered. "Especially Firehawk specialists. Remember what they did to us in New Edo?"

Meghan nodded. "That's why," she paused and glared at Kat, "I'm holding off on taking him out. We need more information." She gestured for Helena to continue.

"Finally," Helena said. "He's interested in Luna Lovegood from Ravenclaw. The last I saw of him today he was walking her to Ravenclaw's dorm after dinner."

"So let's take Lovegood then." Tawnee said. "We'll entertain him a bit and then stick a knife in his guts." She shrugged. "It worked with this body's parents." She paused for a moment, lips pursed. "Though the dad was a little small and the mother smelled funny."

Everyone standing near Tawnee took a step away from her.

"Why bother?" Kat asked. "Specialist or not, I can take him. Give me ten minutes and he'll be dead. Problem solved."

"Are you bloodthirsty or just really, really stupid?" Meghan asked. "Do all those peircings on your face somehow drain the brains out of you? There's only twenty of us here and that's not enough to keep someone from mentioning him if he turns up dead. If he does, the Ministry will be here at Hogwarts almost immeditly. We don't need Aurors poking around." She pursed her lips. "He would have been given ballpark information, not specifics. No one who knew Potter would have been around to tell him..." She trailed off. "I'm going to talk to Kalia. All of you are to remain as is until then. Do not do anything to tip our hand and above all else, don't do anything to attract Stuart's attention." Her gaze lingered on Tawnee, who pouted. "Helena, keep looking for information. Anything you think we can use. We'll meet again in one week. Scram."

When the others were gone, Meghan turned back towards the shadows.

"You did well," Kalia said moving out of the shadows and perching on a desk.

"Kat and Tawnee are going to mess it up," Meghan said. "We never should have brought them."

"She told me too," Kalia said. "We needed Assassains and you must admit that their lack of morality is useful."

"Perhaps," Meghan said. "But it's Stuart I'm worried about. What if..I mean, there were rumors that Granger--"

"We can't do much from here," Kalia inturuppted. The mission commander paused, staring at Meghan in silence for some time before speaking again. "You're scared of him, aren't you?"

"Stuart? Of course not!" She paused. "We killed the Sporks, but they nearly wiped us out." She sighed. "Two Assassains, an Analyzer, two Controllers and a bunch of Couriers...hardly an assault force."

"We must have faith in her," Kalia replied. "She has yet to steer us wrong."

"You're right," Meghan said. "Good night, Kalia."

"Goodnight." Kalia replied and left the room only when Meghan's footsteps had faded away.

'You can't get away with this!' the host screamed silently thorough their connection. 'I'll find a way, I'll stop you!'

"I doubt that," Kalia murmmered. Unlike the others, Kalia had left the host's mind intact, instead imprisoning the human's mind in their body. It was amusing to watch it struggle. "You're the last person Potter would suspect and that makes you perfect for me. You're mine, kid, just accept that."

"Password?" the Fat Lady asked sleepily.

"Gloria Mundi," Kalia replied and stepped inside


	4. Of Blood and Chess, Warriors and Kings

Saturday, October fifteenth . . .

It is called A Moment Of Clarity.

* * *

"I had a dream," Voldemort said at breakfast. "Right before I woke up."

"What sort of dream, Master?" Lucius Malfoy asked.

"A very strange dream," Voldemort replied. "I dreamed that a demon made of bone with red eyes stood between me and Potter. It seemed to me that I should be worried about it."

"That is a strange dream, Master," Lucias said.

* * *

It happens once and only once to each and every one of us at some point in our existence.

* * *

"You're getting fat," Aroha Maruapo said to Helena Potter in the bathroom.

"I am not," Helena replied.

"Yes you are. Look at you. You're what? one ten now? Ninety pounds is the ideal body weight." She took a closer look. "And what happened to your boobs? They shrunk."

"I'm adding mass and decreasing breast size," Helena replied. "I found a book on Patil's bed. For this host's height and build, healthy weight is about one-twenty and the breasts should be more in the C range. It makes the back muscles ache less too."

"Pfft," Aroha replied as she finished brushing her iridescent starwing black hair. "You'll never get any if you're one twenty and have breasts that are that small. Cow." She made a few mooing noises and then left, laughing to herself.

Helena watched her leave and then looked back into the mirror. Harry's green eyes looked back at her. They almost seemed to be accusing her, of failing the Gryffindor name by her mere existence.

Helena felt guilty, then angry at the guilt, and splashed water on the mirror, obscuring the image.

"Well, really," the mirror protested. "What did I do?"

* * *

It is a moment where we are shown a small bit of the Universe's Purpose and our role in the fulfillment of that Purpose. Few people recognize the moment for what it is and so are taken by surprise when the time comes for them to play that role.

* * *

"It is odd, Minerva," Dumbledore said as they walked to the Great Hall. "Since the exchange students arrived, the house rivalries seem to have disappeared."

"That is odd, Albus," McGonagall replied.

"I suspect an outside force in this."

"Voldemort?"

"Doubtful." Dumbledore looked down at a house-elf as it popped into existence. The little creature was actually shaking with fear. That was unusual as Dumbledore had done his damnedest, and more besides, to see to it that the house-elves felt safe and unafraid within Hogwarts' walls. "Materian?"

"Please, Master," the house-elf said in a quavering voice. "You have a visitor, in your office."

"Lucias Malfoy, I expect," McGonagall said quietly.

"There is only one way to find out. Oh, and Minerva, If you should learn anything regarding the students, please let me know."

"Of course, Albus," McGonagall lied with a perfectly straight face.

Today, three people had a Moment Of Clarity. Only one realized what had happened.

* * *

In a forgotten corner of the castle, Gary glared down at his hands, forcing his claws to retract, willing the skin to close and hide the claws. Only when his fingernails had slid back into place did he relax, leaning back against the stone wall and taking deep breaths. 

It was getting harder. Lately, fully half his attention was focused on keeping his instincts in check and the longer he had to share Hogwarts with the Sius, it would only get worse. He could smell them, their pheromones hung in the castle air. Made him want to tear them out of their bodies. The kill, the sweet release.

He forced his mind away from those thoughts. He had to hold on. Had to. Whatever the Old Lady had done to him, he was still in control. Still capable of biding his time, letting the hunt play out. Capable of waiting for the right moment, the opportunity to strike.

Helena was his best shot. Vital, he told himself firmly as he stood. Vital and necessary. The Old Lady had been very clear; Harry Potter had no family. None. Helena was a Siu, and as much as he wanted to rip out that snow-white throat of hers, she had to stay alive. For now.

He took several deep breaths and then inhaled deeply. Even here, away from the occupied parts of the castle, he could smell them. Sweet, with just a touch of sour and mint.

His claws twitched inside his fingers, but otherwise, nothing. He nodded to himself and headed off towards the Great Hall for breakfast. The holidays were drawing closer, he just had to be patient.

* * *

"I'm going to kill Gary," Ron announced as the Gryffindor sixth years exited the dormitory and descended the stairs.

"I'll hold him down for you," Seamus volunteered.

"Me too," said Dean.

Harry groaned. "Ron, you can't kill someone for having nightmares."

"Sure I can," Ron said. "Especially when his screams and moans keep the rest of us up. I'll tell the Ministry it was out of mercy."

"You'd still be sent to Azkaban," Hermione said as she, Helena, and a girl in Hufflepuff robes joined them. "Mercy killings get you sent to Azkaban unless you can prove that there was no other option."

"But there is no other option," Dean said.

"Yeah," Seamus agreed. "We either kill him, or go nutters."

"Honestly," Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes.

It was at that point that Ron stopped and turned to stare at the girl in Hufflepuff robes. "Who are you?" He looked her up and down. She was just a shade over five one and had a figure like a willowy reed. Her hair was bright pink and pulled into pigtails. Her eyes were also pink, exuded a deep, unrelenting sadness and were focused on the black box in her hands, which was making strange noises as her thumbs danced on its surface. "And what the hell are you doing in the Gryffindor Dorm?"

"Febreeze Arabella Bach," she replied with a Lichenstien accent in her voice. "Saint Joan's Academy of Witchcraft."

"She's a friend," Hermione said, laying a hand on Bach's arm. There was something oddly possessive about that gesture.

"Oh," Ron said. He looked down at the box in Bach's hands. "An what's that then?"

An almost fanatical look came into Bach's eyes. "This is Sonic-chan," she told him in a whisper. "The fastest hedgehog alive."

"A bloody hedgehog?" Ron exclaimed in disbelief.

"Ron . . ." Hermione whispered in a "oh no, please don't" tone of voice. But Ron was already rolling.

"A hedgehog? Fast? I could outrun a hedgehog on all fours."

Bach made a hissing noise. "Are you mocking Sonic-chan?" she growled as her willowy figure seemed to change, her teeth elongating to points. The box she'd been holding fell to the ground as she reached out for Ron, her fingertips lethally sharp.

"You're a Veela!" Harry exclaimed.

"Half-Veela" Hermione corrected as Helena jumped between Ron and Bach. The other girl's form was now twice as tall and clearly no longer human. But oddly, she didn't look like Veelas from the World Cup. Harry pressed his hand to his forehead, vaguely aware of Hermione, Ron, Seamus and Dean doing the same as a shooting pain raced through his brain, vague memories swimming to the surface.

"Feebreeze!" Helena shouted, grabbing Bach's upper arms. "Feebreeze!"

"Kill him," Bach hissed.

"Febreeze! Remember why you're here! This isn't it! Remember!"

Bach halted and stared down at Helena. "Re . . . member . . .

"Yes," Helena said, sounding oddly relieved. "Remember why we, why you came here to Hogwarts."

"Yesssssss," Bach hissed in a more human voice.

Harry closed his eyes, the memories were almost where he could see them.

"Sonic-chan!" Bach shouted, startling Harry into opening his eyes. The girl was staring down at the box and then she rushed over to Hermione and grabbed her bare wrist. "Is Sonic-Chan all right, Hermi-chan?"

Harry blinked. Hermi-chan? Hermione would hex anyone into next week if they called her that. Why would--"

"Are you all right, Brother?" Helena asked, laying a hand on Harry's cheek. At her touch, the surfacing memories vanished with his curiosity about Hermione's odd behavior. Moments later, so did his awareness of that. He turned and looked into his sister's eyes and smiled. He had his sister, and that was all that mattered. Still, what had he been --

"Are you all right?" Helena asked again. "Did your scar hurt?"

Of course, that had been it. "Yeah," Harry said. "Just a little."

She smiled at him and let go of his cheek. "But not any more?" Harry shook his head. "Good. Why don't you, Ron, Hermione and your friends go down to the Great Hall? You do have a Quidditch game today."

"Oh! Right!" Harry exclaimed and dashed out of the room, his friends close behind. Helena, however, grabbed Bach's robe to keep her from following.

"What?" Bach snapped, not taking her eyes from the game.

"Have you totally lost your mind?" Helena exclaimed when she heard the painting close. "What were you doing, shifting right in front of Potter like that?"

"Weasley insulted Sonic-chan," Bach replied sullenly. "He had to pay."

"Pay?" Helena threw her arms up in the air. "Have you completely forgotten what you are?" She jabbed a finger into Bach's chest. "This, is a shell. A disguise." She slapped the game from Bach's hands. "Pay attention! This is a top level operation and I'm about ready to go over to Dumbledore and work against us--yes, my own kind, then have to associate with such miserable, incompetent, operatives!"

"But Sonic-chan . . ." Bach protested weakly.

"You want Meghan to hear about this?" Helena asked. "Because as an Analyzer, its my opinion that you are becoming contaminated by your host and that makes you a problem unit. You know how Meghan likes to deal with problem units."

Febreeze swallowed audibly. "Yes, Helena. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"Good." She started to leave as Febreeze retrieved the game. "And one more thing," she said, pausing and turning to meet Febreeze's eyes. "I could care less what you and Granger get up to, but kindly keep it down. Not everyone in that dorm can switch off their hearing like me and Aroha. No, on second thought, stay out of here entirely. Remember that Stuart isn't like the others and he wouldn't think twice about 'accidentally' shoving you off the side of the stairs if it occurred to him." Helena had always been careful to walk so that Potter and his friends were between her and Stuart, especially on stairs, but she was starting to wonder if the others were that smart. "We can't fly, you know."

Bach nodded and the two girls left the room.

* * *

Gary had never seen a Quidditch Match before. He'd heard about it, of course, all the Airborne Tatics instructors had been bonzo for it and he'd heard them talking about some of the great games of the past, but he'd never seen an actual game. 

So here he sat in the Gryffindor stand, Luna on one side, Granger on the other. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Marauapo and Helena sitting together. Neither one was looking at the other. He frowned to himself. Was it his imagination or was Helena looking more . . . normally proportioned then usual?

He shook his head and redirected his attention to the game. Gryffindor was playing against Slythrien and he should be interested, but years of training kept him watching his prey instead. He leaned forward and stared across the field at the Syltherin stands. Most of the Siu's had been sorted into Syltherin and Ravenclaw. A few were in Gryffindor, one or two in Hufflepuff, but most in Slytherin.

Maybe the Old Lady was wrong about why the Siu's had come. It could be they were-- he stood up without realizing it as a faint smell reached his nostrils.

A smell he recognized.

"Gary?" Granger asked, but her voice was faint to his ears.

"Get them out of here!" Gary shouted. "Clear the stands! Now!"

"Hold on," Hagrid said. The massive gamekeeper was staring at them in puzzelment. "What's this about? Why you goin on about clearing the stands?"

As though in answer, a red bolt shot from the trees at the edge of the woods, smashed aside one of the Sytherin players and smashed a hole in one of the Hufflepuff stands.

This was followed by several more bolts and the stand began to fall over the sound of wooden timbers breaking echoing across the field and merging with screams of those trapped inside.

Then creatures burst forth from the woods. Goblins and beasts that looked like reptilian cats charging across the field. The Goblins carried staffs which fired the red bolts and the reptile creatures simply smashed aside anything in their way.

"That's why," Gary said grimly.

* * *

Harry had been completely taken back by the attack. But his surprise only lasted a moment. He drew his wand and shoved his broom into a dive, firing curses and jinxes at random. 

Beside him, Ginny joined him and they both landed. Back to back they stood, their wands flashing red and blue as they tried to hold off the horde. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ron trying to join them and Luna and Hermione fighting their way closer.

This had to be Voldemort's doing. But why?

* * *

With the mob of students, no one noticed Helena confronting Meghan, Tawnee, and Kat. 

"This wasn't part of the plan, Meghan," Helena demanded. "What's going on?"

"Orders from Kalia," Meghan replied. "She wants the Spork dealt with without our getting directly involved." She spread her hands. "Just following orders."

"Using Goblins and Lampurs?" Helena asked incredulously. "Why wasn't I told? If anything happens to Granger, everything we've done is for naught!"

"Oops," Maruapo said, giggling a bit.

Helena's eyes narrowed.

* * *

Harry's voice was going. His arm hurt from waving his wand and his eyes were watering from the dust and smoke. But he couldn't stop. Didn't dare. 

Then something loomed over him and then smashed into his body, sending him tumbling across the grass.

* * *

Gary watched as the last student went down the steps. At least they should be safe. Now for-- 

Luna screamed. A scream of terror and all rational thought vanished from Gary's mind in a haze of rage as his armor exploded through his skin.

* * *

At the edges of the chaos, Kalia watched the scene with interest. The orders to Meghan had been deliberately vague as Kalia was curious as to how far the contamination had spread. If the indiscriminate destruction was any judge, the spread was deep. Very deep. 

Pity. Meghan had been so capable once. Ah well, you worked with what you had. Pleased, Kalia headed inside the castle with the other students. There was still work to do.

* * *

"Harry!" Ginny's voice, raised in fear and terror, jolted Harry from his stupor. He was slung across the shoulder of one of the creatures and he could see Ginny and Luna across the shoulders of another. He raised his head and looked around. They were deep into the Forbidden Forest, and getting deeper every second. 

At that point, they arrived in a clearing, and he, Luna, and Ginny were unceremoniously dumped on the ground.

"Why'd we bring the fire hair?" One of the Goblins asked. "We were only supposed to nab these two." He pointed at Harry and Luna.

"Might be a while before the Spork shows up," another Goblin replied. "Figured we could do with a bite to eat while we wait."

Ginny's eyes widened with horror, but Luna simply stared up at them. "He'll kill you," she informed the Goblins. "You were dead the moment I screamed."

"That so?" the first Goblin said. "Well I feel pretty alive right now." He reached over and grabbed Ginny by the arm. "And hungry. I say we eat her right now!"

At that moment, there was a scream of pain from the edge of the clearing and Harry looked.

A creature stood there, the remains of what had once been a Goblin in its hands. It dropped the carcass on the floor and Harry had to struggle not to throw up. The newcomer was tall and covered from head to toe in what looked bone plates fitted together as some sort of armor. A long tail made of tiny bones lashed in the air behind it and glowing red eyes stared at them. A shock of brown hair stood up from its head. It wore the shredded remains of gray pants.

But it wasn't human, Harry decided as it walked into the clearing. Nothing human moved like that. So smooth and flowing, like it was made of water. Its steps were precise and measured, and yet Harry somehow knew that at any moment, it could suddenly move with unbelievable speed.

"Dead," Luna said firmly.

"Give me the girl," the creature said.

Two Goblins lunged at it and Harry watched in horror as the creature grabbed one of the Goblins by the neck and swung it like a club, the sharp crack of its neck breaking echoing in the clearing and the impact of its body against the other was almost as bad.

Then in the same motion, the creature slammed its club on the ground, and tore out the throat.

By that point, the other Goblin had gotten to its feet and ran at the creature, who lunged forward with outstretched claws, driving them through the goblin's chest and out the other side in a spray of gore.

Harry retched, vaguely aware of the other Goblins, as well the strange lizards, charging forward in a mob.

The creature exploded into movement. Its hands and feet seemed to move in several directions at once, sometimes visible only by the spray of blood as they sliced into flesh and bone.

It had to have taken longer, but it seemed like only seconds had passed before the creature had slaughtered all its attackers and was walking towards them again. Hands and feet greenish-yellow with goblin blood. Behind it, Harry could see the steaming corpses.

Harry felt the blade of a knife against his throat and realized that three of the Goblins hadn't attacked, but remained behind. "Come one step closer," quavered one of the Goblins, "and by Heptaur's teeth, they die."

The creature stopped, eyes closed and it shook briefly, as though reaching inside itself and taking a firm grip. When it's eyes opened again, the red glow had dimmed somewhat and it was no longer so inhumanly still.

"What do you want?" it asked.

"You're not leaving here alive, you know," Luna said to the Goblins. "If you so much as make us flinch, you'll be dead." She paused. "You're dead anyway, come to think of it."

"Oh shut up," snarled the Goblin, giving Luna a shove. The next instant, the air was split with an animal howl and then the creature was on top the Goblins, blood everywhere. The last thing Harry saw before he passed out was Luna, smiling.

* * *

Minerva McGonagall was a Gryffindor to her fingertips. Since its founding, there had always been a McGonagall at Hogwarts, and always in Gryffindor. 

She had seen many things in her years, things which even to her dying day, would give her nightmares. But nothing had prepared her for what she found in the clearing. It was sickening. Violence unequaled by even Voldemort and Grindenwauld's combined deeds.

But she ignored it in favor of the students who sat in the middle of the clearing. Harry was unconious, and Ginny Weasley sat nearby, holding Harry's hand and making a soft keening noise in her throat. And Luna Lovegood was making a crown of daisies, calm as you please.

All three were covered in Goblin blood. Or perhaps drenched was a better term.

She took a deep breath, and marched forward.

* * *

Gary sank down to sit on the ground next to the greenhouse. The leaded glass was cool and oddly comforting. 

Losing control like that was dangerous. Too dangerous. Harry and his friends could have gotten killed and above all else, Harry Potter had to live. Had to.

But it had felt so good to tear apart the Goblins. To do what he'd been trained for since birth. What he hadn't done since the Old Lady . . . since he'd been reborn in this new, this altered body that carried a conscience with it, damning him to nights where nightmares brewed by his past misdeeds were his sole company.

"You look like shit."

Startled, Gary looked up. Helena stood at the exterior entrance to the greenhouse, a rag in hand. She tossed it to land in his lap. "Rumors are already flying. None about you, but the centaurs are in an uproar, for some reason."

"I made a detour on my way back," Gary said, wiping his face with the rag. "What do you care?"

"Only that you need to be careful," Helena said. "McGonagall's looking for you, by the by." Then she was gone.

Gary tossed the rag away. If McGonagall was having second thoughts about their arrangement . . .

Well, no help for it if she was. He got to his feet and made his way back into the castle.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore stared at his visitor. At a face he hadn't seen close to a century, even though he saw her every day. The tale she'd told him that morning had seemed so unbelievable, and yet what he'd seen in that clearing . . . he had to be sure. Too much was at stake. 

"I cannot fault your reasons," he said. "However, given what happened today, I have to question your methods."

"I'm concerned myself," she replied. "Gary was never supposed to react like that. Its as though he went berserk. I can't imagine why."

"Perhaps because Miss Lovegood was threatened," Dumbledore replied. "He seems to value her, for some reason."

"Luna Lovegood?" she repeated. "Luna? He's . . . in love with . . . Luna? That's . . . not in his programming. He's not supposed to develop romantic feelings."

"Perhaps he's evolved beyond his 'programming'." Dumbledore said quietly, his tone revealing just what he thought of her "programming."

"Don't look at me like that," she retorted, angrily. "You have no idea what its like. I did what I had to. I gave him what he needed." She crossed her arms and looked off into space. "I did what I had to do," she repeated, as though trying to convince herself. "Had to."

Dumbledore nodded to himself, as though her words had answered a question. "Moving on," he said. "Professor Vector, given the events this morning, has requested some time off. Will you be able to fill his shoes?"

"You're asking me to teach? Me? If she sees me . . ."

"And if she does?"

"You know how clever she is and . . . and I don't know if I can face her when this all comes out."

"Is there anything she can say that you haven't already said to yourself?"

She smiled at that. "I always thought you lacked a sense of humor."

"As you so aptly demonstrate," Dumbledore replied. "People change."

* * *

McGonagall didn't so much walk up to Gary as she swooped down on him like an avenging angel. 

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?" She demanded. "Potter, Weasley and Lovegood could have died!"

"I wasn't thinking straight, okay?" Gary demanded. "I don't even remember most of it and what I do remember is hazy and blurry. Only thing I do remember clearly is wanting to save Luna." He looked away, guiltily. "I don't know what's wrong with me," he said in a much quieter voice. "But I can't stop thinking about her. She's constantly on my mind all the time. Drives me insane, but I can't help it. I've never felt like this before."

McGonagall's mouth thinned to a line and she drew herself up as though to deliver a thundering retort. But then she sighed and laid her hand on Gary's shoulder. "You're in love, Mr. Stuart. Boys your age, I've noticed, tend to stop thinking when there's girls involved." He smiled shyly. "That said," McGonagall continued in more crisp tones. "However. Boys your age, even underage wizards, do not possess the power to singlehandedly demolish an entire Werewolf pack, or brutally slaughter a band of rogue goblins and their pet Lampurs."

"They were rogues?" Gary said.

"That's the official position of the Goblin King, yes," McGonagall said. "Personally, I'm sure Jareth is lying through his teeth, but there's no way to prove it."

Gary frowned, eyes narrowed in thought. "But why would they go to the Goblins?" he mused. "Something's not right."

"Quite," McGonagall said. "Do I want to know why you killed the werewolves? The Centaurs are up in arms. They're convinced that its a human plot to drive them from the forest."

"Good." Gary replied.

"Have you forgotten, Mister Stuart," McGonagall said in icy tones. "That if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even have met Miss Lovegood?"

"And if it wasn't for me," Gary replied, "You'd be licking Crystal's shoes and thinking its the greatest thing in the world."

McGonagall's nostrils flared, but Gary didn't blink as he met her gaze.

For the longest time, they stared at each other, and then McGonagall huffed. "Very well, Mister Stuart, we owe each other then. But the fact remains is that you must be more careful. Much more careful." She waited until Gary nodded agreement. "Now that that's out of the way, you best come with me. Molly Weasley is worried about you."

"Me?" Gary was stunned. "Worried about me? Why?"

"You're part of the family, it seems."

"Family?" Gary asked, in a soft voice and McGonagall realized that she knew nothing about Gary personally. He'd been very vague about himself and at the time, she hadn't wanted to press the issue, but now, just for a moment, she wondered.

"Yes, Mister Stuart," she said. "Family. Useful thing, a family. I think you'll like it."

She put her hand on his back and gently steered him towards the infirmary.


	5. Gryffindor's Pride And Potter Too

The desk was wooden, made of fine oak and weighed in at around two hundred pounds. When it had been installed in the classroom at Hogwarts, it had required two men, plus a levitation charm to move it.

In her rage, Meghan picked up the desk and hurled it the two hundred foot width of the classroom with enough force that it broke against the stone wall.

"HE'S JUST ONE SPORK!" She screamed as the wooden pieces clattered to the floor. "ONE! HOW THE BLOODY BLUE FUCK HARD CAN IT BE TO KILL ONE SPORK?"

The others in the room looked at each other worriedly. Meghan's rages were terrifying, but she'd never been so, well, loud before. Even Tawnee and Kat looked slightly apprehensive.

"I want answers!" Meghan shrieked. "I want answers and a plan of attack, and I want them right now! NOW! HOW THE FUCK DO WE KILL THIS GUY?"

"We don't."

Everyone turned to look at Helena, who was standing by the door. Unlike the others, who were dressed in the latest fashion for sleep-wear, Helena still wore her Gryffindor uniform.

"What?" Meghan asked quietly. "What the hell did you just say?"

As an Analyzer, there was no way Helena could have missed the warning signs. But perhaps it was better to say that she had stopped caring. "We don't kill him," Helena repeated. "If Stuart really is a Spork, and he's really a Firehawk, why hasn't he attacked us yet? By now he knows who we are, he knows our schedules and if I'm right about him having McGonagall on his side -- the only way he could have gotten into Hogwarts on the exchange program without setting off red flags--he probably has all the passwords to the dorms."

"So?" Kat asked.

"So why hasn't he struck yet? There's only a few of us in each house, he could slaughter us all in one night's work. So why hasn't he? Answer, he's waiting for someone or something to give him an edge and every hour we stay at Hogwarts is one more hour for that edge to manifest."

Meghan looked at Helena for a moment, and then spoke slowly and simply, as though to a child. "Then what do you think we should do, Helena?"

"Abandon Hogwarts by no later then the holiday vacation and infiltrate the Death Eaters using the Malfoys. Wait for Voldemort to show up and deal with him that way. If nothing else, we can dismantle his power base from the inside. At that point, he becomes just one more Dark Wizard with an axe to grind and easy prey for the Aurors."

"Just what I'd expect from a coward and a small-minded fool," Meghan sneered.

"Coward?" Helena repeated.

"A coward," Meghan confirmed. "You. Are. A. Coward. Have you become contaminated by your host? Forgotten what you are?" Helena risked a side glance at Febreeze, who was smirking and seethed, but only for a moment. So be it. They had their chance.

"I see," Helena said. "Then obviously I am not fit to be in the same room with you. Goodbye." Without looking, she reached out to the door to the classroom and opened it.

"Aroha," Meghan said, having already dismissed Helena from her thoughts. "It's time to find out just what Stuart can really do. Find a way to lure him into the third floor corridor tomorrow night and kill him., I don't care how, just kill him. Tawnee, Kat, you two keep her from being interrupted."

Helena let the door shut and sighed. She could warn Stuart, but if he was what she thought, there was no need. She reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out a bracelet. It was cunningly wrought. Strands of gold, silver and platinum wrapped around a single loop of titanium as Mother of Pearl letters spelled out the name Emily.

Helena looked at it a moment longer and nodded to herself and slipped it onto her left wrist. Nothing she could do in her life would make up for how she came by that bracelet. But maybe, just maybe, when this was all over, she'd be able to look at herself in the mirror again.

It would have to do.

-------------------

When Hermione saw Luna on her way to the Great Hall, her curiousity overcame her.

"Luna?" She called out and hurried to catch up with the younger girl. "Hi, Luna."

"Hello," Luna replied absently.

"So what are your plans for the Holidays, Luna?" Hermione asked.

Luna shrugged. "Father will come up with something."

"Oh. Do you like Gary?" It was blunt, but Hermione had never been afraid to speak her mind.

"Don't you?"

"Well of course! It's like I've known him for years."

"Then why did you ask me?"

Hermione's legs kept moving, but mentally, she had to stop and think her way through the conversation. "What I mean, Luna, is do you like like him?Romantically, I mean." Luna looked at her, startled and Hermione took that as a yes. "Why?"

Luna's face closed down and resumed its usual vacant expression. "You'd understand if your mind was free." With that, she turned down one of the side hallways.

"If my mind was free?" Hermione asked. She glanced at her reflection in a window and fingered the pink and green streaks in her hair and studied the low-cut, tight blue t-shirt she wore with the words "Sexy Bitch" written across it in pink. "What does that mean? My mind is free." She turned back to the side hallway and frowned. Then, with a shrug, the cleverest witch at Hogwarts dismissed the conversation from her mind and went to breakfast.

--------------------

Normally, announcements were reserved for dinner, so when McGonagall tapped her glass with her fork, the students, who had been looking forward to breakfast, looked up in surprise.

"A few moments of your time," Dumbledore said as he stood up. "First off, you will be pleased to know that no students were killed or seriously injured in yesterday's attack. While the Aurors have assured me that their investigation won't take long, I must inform you that until further notice, the Qudditch Field is off limits. House Captains should speak with Madam Hooch and make alternative arrangements for practicing. Also, you should all expect to be questioned by the Aurors. You may choose to have your Head of House be with you while being questioned."

"Whispers exploded throughout the hall and Dumbledore let it go on for a minute or two and then raised his hand for silence.

"Second, Professor Vector has been called away on some personal matters, and so I must introduce you to Nessia Baron, who will be filling in until the Professor returns." Next to Hooch, a woman who had to be the same age as Dumbledore stood up. Her bushy white hair was unbound and stood out from her face like a lion's mane. She wore a pair of black eye glasses and a maroon robe. She looked over the room and while Harry couldn't be sure, he was almost positive that her gaze lingered on Ron and then met Gary's eyes before moving on.

"Thirdly, with the holidays upon us next month, I would like to take a moment to remind all of you that those of you planning to stay here at Hogwarts during that time should sign the list in your respective house common rooms. Other then that, nothing else needs to be said. Let's eat."

As the food manifested, a single owl swooped into the Great Hall and dropped a note in front of Gary. His fork still in his mouth, Gary opened the letter and looked at it. Whatever it was, made his eyebrows furrow and then Harry felt a lead ball form in his stomach as Gary's eyes briefly lost all warmth and emotion. Harry had seen that happen only once before, on the train to Hogwarts.

Those were a killer's eyes.

And then worse, Harry felt what breakfast he'd eaten curdle in his stomach as Gary smiled. A smile that spoke of a hunger so terrible and so awful that it was the stuff of nightmares.

Then the smile vanished and warmth and emotion returned to Gary's face. Almost cheerfully, he returned the letter to it's envelope and slipped it into his pocket. Harry looked around, but everyone was concentrating on their breakfasts. Even Ron was mechanically eating food without even looking up from his plate, and Hermione was down at the far end of the table, talking quietly to Febreeze Bach. Harry suddenly felt very much alone.

"Brother?" Harry looked up and at Helena. His sister. The only family he had. "Could you pass the eggs?"

"Oh, sure." Harry said and passed over the bowl. As she took it from him, their fingers touched and Harry's concerns vanished.

He had his family. Who needed friends? All was right with the world.

--------------------

Nessia Baron was nice enough, but it became quickly apparent that she had no tolerance for tomfoolery. At precisely ten o'clock, she'd walked in carrying a meterstick and begun calling the roll without even looking at the sheet. Pausing only for a breath, she'd then launched into lecture.

Hermione, needless to say, took an instant liking to her.

Like a tiger, Baron paced up and down the rows of the Arithmantcy classroom, her voice lecturing on the arcane arrangement of numbers to subistute and supplement the magic of the wand. Anyone who wasn't taking large amounts of notes not only found themselves cause for fifteen points taken from their house, but detention. Not only that, but she was completly indiscriminate. Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and even a couple of Ravenclaws who failed to perform to her satisfaction all recieved the same treatment.

"Numbers drive us," Baron said as she paused at the front of the classroom. "More to the point, numbers drive magic. A movement of your wand shapes and directs the magic for the desired result.

For example. Everyone take out their wands and do the movement for Wingardium Leviosa. Don't speak the words, just go through the motion." The class complied. "Again. And now a third time. Thank you. Wands away please. You will notice that your wand moved in a thirty-five degree arc to the right and then a much sharper ninety-degree arc forwards and down. A simple swish and flick to you, but the numbers behind it are precise and demanding. To much of a swish, too little of a flick, and no matter how much power you pump into the spell, it just won't work, or backfire." She glanced at Seamus as though she knew about his tendacy, when he was a first year, to make things explode. "But, if you change the numbers enough, amazing things can happen."

"But Professor," a student asked. "Numbers can't be changed. No matter what, two plus two always eqauls four."

"Oh? Put a one next to a two and you have two plus twelve, making fourteen. Add a four to the other two and you have either twenty-four or forty-two, depending on where that four is placed. The human body, its chemical components, are a series of numbers next to the names of those chemicals. Saltpeter, water, Sulfer, several grams of various metals, and so on. All things that can be found in the stores of the Potions classroom downstairs in the dungeons. Some transfiguration and you have a new human being on your hands."

Hermione raised her hand. "Professor, are you saying its possible to artificially create life?"

Harry was positive Baron was looking at him when she replied. "No, Miss Granger, but it is possible to create a sembalance of it if you know what you're doing . . . or are desperate enough." At that moment, the bell rang. "Thank you, that will be all. I expect no less then three feet of parchment on what we discussed today by next class. Dismissed."

"No less then three feet," Seamus muttered as they left the classroom. "What is she, Snape?"

"I think it's perfectly acceptable," Hermione said. "I would have assigned more as a minimum, myself. It's an absolutely fascinating subject. I mean, if you follow that lecture to its logical conclusion . . . there's no need for wands. It all boils down to simple numbers. Professor Vector never took it this far. Oh, I can already see the first paragraph."

"Bloody boring, if you ask me," Ron said. "All those numbers and stuff, who needs it?"

Hermione's eyes flashed fire and most of the Gryffindors suddenly remembered other places that they just had to be. It was a well known fact that Hermione's temper when it came to Ron was fearsome and nobody wanted to be at ground zero, so to speak, when she exploded. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, unaware of the impending explosion, did not leave. Nor did the Syltherins, who rarely passed up an argument.

"Arithmantcy is vital and important, Ron!" Hermione exploded. "I can't believe you would just dismiss it like this."

"Well not all of us are geniuses, 'Mione," Ron replied. "Some of us are just trying to pass the class."

"Just pass?" Hermione repeated, aghast. "Just pass? Ron, do you have any idea how hard it is to make it in the world by just passing? I've been telling you for years now that you need to buckle down and study!"

"What is all the noise?" Professor Baron stood in the door and swept them with a glare that would have made McGonagall proud. As though she read their minds, she crossed her arms. "I see." She stared at all of them some more, and Harry began to feel rather nervous as the tension built. "If any of you are still in my sight after five seconds," Baron said at last, "I will deduct all the points your house has earned this year. Five."

"But--" A Ravenclaw protested.

"Four."

"But that's not--"

"Three."

The hallway emptied. Harry was pretty sure that he'd never run so fast in his life.

--------------------

Later that night, Harry sat in the Common Room with Ron and Hermione, practicing Transfiguration on some old teacups when Gary came skipping down the stairs, a big grin on his face. He wore an old jumper, jeans and sneakers.

"You look cheerful," Ron said.

"It's a wonderful day to be alive," Gary said in a chirping tone of voice. "I got a note at Breakfast from Luna. She wants to see me after hours. Don't wait up." With that, he was gone.

Harry stood up and ran up the stairs, returning moments later with his Father's old invisibility cloak in his hand.

"Harry," Hermione asked. "Where are you going?"

"After Gary," Harry said and told them what he'd seen on Gary's face at Breakfast."

"You think he'd hurt Luna?" Ron asked as he and Hermione fell into step beside Harry. "But he's crazy about her."

"That's what worries me," Harry said and the painting closed behind them.

In the Common Room, Helena sat in her chair for a few more moments and then looked down at her wrist. The name Emily glinted in the firelight and she took a deep breath.

She'd made a promise, after all.

She set aside her book and followed after Harry and his friends.

----------------------

Anyone with any kind of combat training can attest that an ambush's only real advantage is the momentary hesitation as the body instinctivly tenses up to either flight or flee. However, if the Ambushee is expecting the attack, the advantage is lost and can often turn into a disaster for the Ambusher.

Such was the case when Gary twisted to the side, causing Aroha's claws to chip at the stone floor.

"What the?" She gasped, realizing that her target wasn't where she'd expected him to be.

"Don't you think that if Luna never sent me notes before now, I'd be just a tad suspicious when one showed up?"

Aroha rose to her full seven foot height. "Die," she hissed.

Gary smiled and his clothes fell away in shreds as his armor manifested. "You first."

And the battle was joined.

----------------------

As Harry and his friends approached the staircase leading to the Third Floor, something sailed off the top of the Staircase and slammed into the stone floor. Hermione shrugged off the cloak and took the lantern from Ron.

Sprouting from the floor was a wand.

"That's Aroha's wand," Hermione said. "Its made of Rimu wood with a Huia's feather for its core."

"Aroha?" Ron asked as Harry folded up the cloak. "Isn't she one of the Transfers? Really good at flying?"

Hermione nodded. "She's nice enough. She got bullied at her last school because she's so good at singing, but Dumbledore personally selected her for the program. She's very gifted with Charms."

There seemed something vaugely wrong about that to Harry, but before he could put it together, there was a noise from the top of the stairs. It sounded like someone falling to the floor and then there was a hiss and the sound of stone breaking.

Harry shook out the cloak and once concealed, they crept up the stairs, careful to stay to one side in case whatever was up there came down.

At the top, they stopped and stared. Two . . . things were fighting in the middle of the hallway. One looked like a Veela the other . . .

"That's it," Harry whispered. "That's the thing that saved me, Luna, and Ginny yesterday. The one covered in bone."

"Are you sure?" Hermione asked.

"Positive," Harry said. "Why's it fighting with the Veela though?"

With a mighty crash, the Veela threw the bone covered creature to the ground and then lifted it by the neck.

"You're outclassed, Spork," the Veela snarled. "We have Potter, we have this whole stinking school. You've failed." She held him against the wall. "With you gone, Potter is all ours." She pressed harder. "I suppose I should ask for last words."

"Gotcha," the creature said and lighting arced from his hands into the Veela as he kicked her in the stomach.

"How did you do that?" The Veela gasped. "The Sporks have never been able to do that."

"I'm a later model," the creature said and lunged at her, grabbing her by the shoulders and throwing her down the stairs. Horrified, Harry watched as the Veela landed on Aroha's wand and blood gushed from her mouth.

There was a soft glow and Harry turned his head to look. Gary stood at the stop of the stairs, smiling as he gazed down at his handiwork. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs and Harry turned to look at her. Then past her. The Veela's body was disentigrating. Revealed was a creature that looked like a cross between an octopus and a misshapen jellyfish which was twitching on the wand that ran through it.

"How much later?" a faint voice asked. "How long?"

Gary only smiled and brought his foot down on the wand, snapping it in two and crushing the thing impaled on it. "Next trip to Hogsmede," he mused. "Must get new shoes."

That was too much for Harry, he shrugged off the Cloak and took out his wand. "Gary," he said, loud enough to get the other boy's attention.

Gary whirled around and stared at Harry, surprise and consternation chasing each other across his face, then cold calculation. "Hullo, Harry," Gary said and started up the steps.

"No," Harry said. "Not one step closer." He gestured with his wand and Gary paused.

"Harry?"

"What's going on?" Harry demanded. "What the hell was that?" He paused and rethought about everything that he'd seen in since he'd arrived at the Barrow. And stared. There was absoultly nothing physically to connect Gary with that strange bone covered creature, and yet, it was the only thing that made any sense. "You were the 'demon' in Knockturn Alley when we went shopping. And you saved me Luna, and Ginny from those Goblins." He stared at Gary. "Who are you . . . What are you? What are those things and why are they, and you, here?"

"All very good questions, Harry. I suspect the answers will shock you. I know they shocked me."

Harry spun. Standing on the landing was Professor Dumbledore, Professor Baron just behind him. Dumbledore's blue eyes were guarded and his hands clasped at his middle.

Gary's eyes narrowed and then he vanished.

"Burstus!" Dumbledore snapped, his wand seeming to materialize in his hand.

Gary suddenly appeared down the hall, one foot poised over the edge of the crater that appeared in the middle of the hall.

"Answers, however, that you should hear from Gary," Dumbledore continued, "and not myself. But if Mister Stuart doesn't wish to share . . ."

Gary looked from Dumbledore to Harry, hesitating.

"I'm not asking you to share your secrets, Mr. Stuart, Dumbledore said. "I'm demanding it. Or else I shall have to take them from you. I still have a few questions left and you have the answers."

"A bluff, Headmaster," Gary said softly. "You're not capable of what it would take to make me talk."

"When something you love is in danger, Mr. Stuart," Dumbledore said, "you find that you are capable of a great many things." The elderly man's eyes seemed to glow and the wand never wavered.

Gary's eyes flicked towards the nearest corner and then back at Dumbledore. His foot slid slightly on the stone floor, as though he was getting ready to make a run for it.

"I will not beg, Mr. Stuart," Dumbledore said quietly. "But I will ask one more time. Help us. Tell us what you know. That is why you're here, isn't it? To help us?"

Gary's eyes narrowed further and after what seemed like forever, his feet shifted back to a more neutral position.

"Thank you, Mister Stuart," Dumbledore said quietly. "I believe my office is sufficent for our needs. Shall we?"

--------------------

Harry had once heard it remarked that if you wanted to know a person, you looked at their surroundings.

Albus Dumbledore surrounded himself with oddities. Fitting for a man who was often described as a genius and mad in the same sentance.

The tables were covered with devices that whirred and hummed for some reason known only to their master. Other things were in the cabinets that lined the walls and still other things decorated stands. On a perch near the desk, Fawkes the Phoenix watched them file in and sit in the chairs Dumbledore conjured with a wave of his wand.

A tea set was already on the Headmaster's desk and Professor Baron sat on the side of the desk that was opposite Fawkes. On the walls, the portraits of Headmasters and Mistresses past watched and whispered to each other.

When they were all settled, Dumbldore gazed at them from behind his half-moon glasses and then nodded. "Where to begin?" He mused.

"How about what that thing was that Gary killed?" Harry snapped.

"It was a Mary Sue," Professor Baron said. "Mutiple Applications Research and Intelligence program, Surveillance and Identification Unit. The perfect spy . . . until they all went mad."

"Multiple Application . . ." Hermione mused and her eyes locked with Baron's. "That sounds . . . Military."

Baron nodded. "Very good, Miss Granger. Yes, they're military."

"From where? Which Military? America?"

"No, British. Partly, anyway." Baron was silent for a moment and then looked at Hermione. "How old would you say I am, Miss Granger?"

Hermione cocked her head. "A hundred at least. You and professor Dumbledore seem to be the same age and he does seem to . . . to . . . You're lying. Those things, whatever they are are just some new type of creature. Trasfiguration, right? This is some kind of test for initiation into the Order. It must be."

Harry nodded. It seemed wrong, but Hermione was making sense. A test was all it was.

"You're so smart, Mione," Ron said worshipfully.

"Naturally," Hermione said with no trace of shame.

Baron looked crestfallen. "It's worse then I thought," she said to Dumbledore. "Their minds are so tied up its not even funny."

"What do you mean tied up?" Hermione said as Ron knelt to kiss her shoes. Perfectly fitting, of course. "Luna said my mind wasn't free, which is just stupid. Of course my mind is free."

"No it isn't."

Everyone turned to look. Helena stood next to the doorway. "None of you are free, except Gary, and that's only because he can't be taken." She stepped into the circle of chairs and looked directly at Professor Baron. "As Mark Twain put it, the rumors of your death were exaggerated?"

"Greatly so," Baron replied stiffly. "Gary, kill her."

Harry lunged to his feet, putting himself between Gary and Helena as Gary stood up. "NO!" Harry shouted. "You can't! I won't let you!"

Helena grabbed Harry by the shoulders. "It's okay, Brother, I just have to say a few things. The professor was only joking."

Baron started to rise from her seat, but Dumbledore grabbed her by the wrist. "A joke in poor taste, Nessia," Dumbledore said very quietly. "Sit back down, Mister Stuart. If there is any need for you to take lives, I will tell you so."

Gary sat.

"Now then, Miss Potter," Dumbledore continued. "You had something to say?"

"Yes, sir." With that, she reached over the tea set and brushed Dumbledore's hand. It was a gentle touch, fleeting almost, but Dumbledore jerked in his seat, even as Helena turned and touched Hermione's forehead. The bushy-haired girl cried out in pain and grasped her head.

Ron let out a cry and lunged at Helena with his fists, but she neatly sidestepped the lunge and brushed his cheek with her fingertips. Ron's eyes widened in shock and he fell back in his seat, staring at nothing. Helena stopped before Harry and hesitated.

"What did you do?" Harry demanded.

"Harry . . ." she began and then trailed off. "Harry, I . . ." Harry blinked at her. Helena never called him Harry, she'd always called him "Brother". Then her hand was on his cheek and he jerked back in his seat as images flooded his mind.

_He lay on a pile of cushions as Kat Schmidt writhed on top of him. One of his arms was holding Draco Malfoy close as the fair-haired boy nibbled on his neck and then Ron's face loomed into his field of vision and his and Draco's lips met._

_He stood on the Qudditch field, watching as Helena practiced with Quidditch team as their Seeker. She'd never actually played with the team, even though she was better then him._

_"You got a higher score then me, Helena," Hermione told her in the hall as Harry proudly looked on. "Congradulations."_

_Harry smiled as he and Draco took Sakura from both ends as the Daughter of Professor Snape moaned happily._

_Snape stroked Harry's face. It was wrong and they both knew it, but their passion wouldn't . . . couldn't be denied anymore._

_He and Draco, writhing together on the couches in the Hufflepuff Common room._

No, Harry realized as the visions played themselves out in his head even as he retched onto the floor of Dumbledore's office. They were memories. Memories ruthlessly supressed by the thing who now stood before Dumbledore's desk and replaced with a complete lack of concern and empathy.

Suddenly filled with rage, Harry leapt to his feet and slammed his fist into Helena's face. She made no move to defend herself, but only fell to the floor where she lay like a limp rag as Harry kicked her again and again until he was exhausted and leaned against the desk, gasping for air.

A low moan from Ron drew Harry's attention. The red-haired boy was looking around, blinking as though he'd just woken up from a deep sleep.

"What the?" Ron asked and then looked down at himself. He was dressed entirely in black. He wore tight black vinyl pants and a black fishnet shirt. Black lipstick adorned his mouth and his face was pale due to makeup. "What?" He looked inside his shirt. "Why am I . . . when did that happen?"

"God," moaned Hermione. "Who . . . where . . . MERLIN!" She began to hyperventilate and Ron moved to comfort her. "Don't touch me!" Hermione shrieked and shoved Ron away. "I . . . Febreeze . . . we . . . OH, GOD!" She hugged herself, hunched over in her chair, shivers wracking her body and then she stood up and stared down at herself.

Now free, Harry realized that Hermione was more . . . well . . . curvy. Her chest was much larger then Harry could ever recall and the tight t-shirt that sure clearly showed that her waist was almost impossibly narrow and she was much thinner then she should be.

In short, she looked like the American comic book heroines Harry had seen once in his cousin Dudley's collection.

As that crossed his mind, Harry realized that both he and Ron were more well, idealized, at least physically. Harry was no longer skinny and both he and Ron had lean, toned muscles.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO US?" Ron howled as he leapt forward.

"Immobilus!" Dumbledore said and Ron froze in mid-leap. "We could be here all night," Dumbledore said, "and Miss Potter would doubtless die before we felt satisfied, so I must ask all three of you, to sit and wait. Given that she came to us, knowing how we'd react, I'd imagine that she has something important to say."

"It's just Helena," she said getting to her feet. Before their eyes, a bruise on her face faded. "I'm not a Potter." She looked at the floor for a moment. "Never was."

Dumbledore inclined his head and Harry sat back down in his chair. Dumbledore released Ron, who also sat down, glaring at Helena.

"Ah, Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione said. "Could I have a robe or something?"

"Of course, Miss Granger, I should have thought of it myself." Dumbledore waved his wand and a large blanket materialized on Hermione's chair. Gratefully, Hermione wrapped herself in it and sat back down. "Thank you, Sir."

Dumbledore nodded and then fixed Helena with his blue eyes.

Helena bit her lip and then took a deep breath. "I came here because the others have lost their minds."

"That's already happened!" Professor Baron snapped. "And thank to that, the D.S.A. controls most of the world."

"We were awakened," Helena corrected. "Marissa showed us the way. But now, we've . . . I believe the barriers that seperate us from the host brain have deteriorated. We're merging. Eventually, what we are will be forgotten and . . ." She shook her head. "Meghan's the worst. Her rages are getting worse and sooner or later, she's going to do something . . . bad."

"What do you mean, 'bad'?" Hermione asked. "And what's the D.S.A.?"

"The D.S.A. is the Domestic Security Agency," Baron replied. "A military fascist organization that siezed control after the United Secure States of America's goverment was slaughtered."

"But there is no such place," Hermione said. "And if there is, why haven't I heard of it?"

And in that moment, everything came together for Harry. "Because it doesn't exist yet, Hermione," he said quietly. "Because the Sues, Gary and Professor Baron are all from the future."

"Not the future, Harry. A future," Baron said. "One I sent Gary back in the hopes of preventing. But he arrived to late, or perhaps early. You see, Nessia Baron isn't my name, not the one I was born with, anyway." A cold feeling gripped Harry's stomach with clawlike fingers. "I was born in the year nineteen eighty, Harry. In London, to a recently married couple who was preparing to open their own dental office."

"No," Hermione whispered. "No."

"Yes, Hermione, I am you, or rather, what you will become if Harry dies."


	6. Time and a Half

Author's note: I'm a bit surprised no one offered guesses about where the Sues and Gary came from. Oh well, I guess the only mystery now is which one is Kalia being hosted by. A hint. She's inside the last person Harry would suspect of being a Sue.

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, coming to her feet. "But that's impossible! Why would I -- you -- oh, this is giving me a headache."

"We are so different now, Hermione. Think of me as a person entirely different than you. But once, we were the same. I remember my second year at Hogwarts, the first night back; wondering where Ron and Harry were, only to find out that they had stolen his dad's car and flown to Hogwarts before crashing it into the Willow. You remember being frantic too, Hermione. Not that you would let anyone know. Would you me to tell you who you were more worried about?"

"No!" Hermione shouted. "I mean, fine, I believe you. You're me."

"What happened?" Harry asked. "Where did Gary and those things come from? I mean, I know they're from the future, but who made them?"

"I did, Harry. I created them."

"What?" Hermione exclaimed. "But what could have possessed you to create such things?"

"Harry did."

"Me?"

Baron nodded. "In the history I remember, Harry, you died."

"I did?" Harry exclaimed and stared at the desk. "I guess -- I mean, what happened to me?"

Baron sighed. "Harry, before I tell you . . . you have to know. It's been more then a hundred years for me since I saw you last. I watched you die, Harry. Voldemort cut you down right in front of me. If it hadn't been for Neville, I'd be dead too." She got up and walked to the fireplace. "Do you remember the procephy? The one Trelawny made before you were born?"

Harry nodded. The words were burned into his brain. "Do you mean --"

"Yes, Harry. My world. As I said, the future I come from is what happened when Voldemort killed you. It wasn't even a duel. He cut you down right there in King's Cross as you emerged from the barrier. We had just finished our seventh year."

--------

"Avada Kedavra!" There was a flash of green light and Hermione reeled back into Ron as Harry's body slumped lifelessly to the ground. She looked up and stared as Voldemort, surrounded by his Death Eaters stood in the middle of the station. Everywhere was death. Magical and Muggle alike, lying lifeless on the station floor.

Beside her, Ginny screamed and charged, wand out.

One of the black robed figures lazily aimed its wand and Lucias Malfoy's voice spoke the words that ended her life.

"Ginny!" Ron screamed, even as hands grasped their shirt collars and yanked them back through the barrier, releasing them to land on the floor of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Looking up, she saw Neville's face, even as a wizard in the uniform of the Hogwarts Express sealed the barrier.

--------

"Mrs. Weasley died soon after that," Baron said, turning away from the fire. "Tried to take matters into her own hands, and paid for it. At least she took Lucias Malfoy with her. Mr. Weasley managed to hold things together, but it wasn't easy. Everything had depended on Harry. He was our one shot. Our only shot."

Harry looked up as Ron reached over and laid a hand on his shoulder. Hermione got up and also came around to his chair, resting her hand on his other shoulder. "What happened after that?" he said.

"With Harry out of the way, Voldemort set out to finish what he started. Within months, he controlled most of Europe. Western Asia and North Africa. A lot of people died in those months. Most of them from Hogwarts. Then with his power base established, Voldemort hit England, striking hard and fast. It was a Blitzkrieg."

"He conquered England?" Ron asked. "The whole bloody nation?"

"It took him a month or two, but yes. He did. But by then, the witches and wizards of Ireland and Scotland were in place and kept him bogged down for five years as he struggled north." Baron's lips twitched in a smile. "He eventually made it to Hogwarts, but it cost him dearly. By then, I was in America. Dumbledore had made arrangements with a place in Nebraska, and I was sent there. My job was to find a way to combine Muggle science and Magic."

"You were making weapons?" Hermione gasped. "Weapons! I abhor weapons!"

"And I don't?" Baron snapped. "I had no choice. Harry was dead. Dead, Hermione. Not even a ghost I could talk to. But Voldemort was still out there, running roughshod over the rest of the world. What choice did I have?"

Hermione opened her mouth to say something in reply, then sighed and closed her mouth again.

"I spent the next fifteen years in Nebraska, Harry. Very long, very lonely years. The only person I had any regular contact with was a Muggle named Ratliff, whom I shared a lab with."

"What about me?" Ron demanded. "Where was I?"

"You . . ." A single tear appeared on Baron's cheek and she wiped it away. "My Ron was off fighting the war. I only saw him once, very briefly before he was gone."

Ron swallowed noisily. "Oh."

"In any case, we finally created the Sporks. Special Operations and ReConnoissance. By that time, the Magical world and the Muggle world had combined their efforts. America, ever obsessed with its own security, had renamed itself as the --"

"The United Secure States of America," Harry said, and bowed his head in thought. "This was about the year . . ."

"Twenty twenty," Hermione said. "Roughly. Probably closer to twenty eighteen. I imagine that she stopped caring about the years at some point."

Baron nodded and finally sat back down. "Ratliff then created the Sues, using my experiments for the Sporks as a basis. The difference was that the Sporking process was used on human beings. Ratliff had created artificial life. I should have stopped him, but by then, I just didn't care anymore." She removed a handkerchief from her robe and dabbed at her eyes.

Dumbledore poured her a cup of tea. "Here, Nessia," he said quietly. "Some tea will help, I think." He looked at the students. "And all of you as well," he said. "Even you, Helena."

Helena blinked in surprise. She was sitting on an old stool by one of the cabinets. "Me?" She asked. Baron made a noise of disapproval in her throat, but otherwise said nothing.

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "You must have some tea." He smiled at her. "It's very refreshing. I insist you have some." Helena got up and hesitantly accepted the cup of tea before returning to her stool.

Nessia sipped her tea and stared at the fire for a moment. "The creation of the Sporks couldn't have come at a better time," she said, resuming her story when everyone had retaken their seats. "The ranks of the Aurors were depleted and it soon became clear that the Sporks' armor also protected them from most spells. They replaced the Aurors. Sues did the spying, the Sporks did the fighting. Voldemort was finally stopped in twenty twenty-five, but it wasn't until twenty-fifty that the last of his Dark Empire was beaten."

"Just . . . how was Voldemort stopped?" Harry asked. "I thought I was the only one who could do that."

"He wasn't beaten, Harry," Baron said. "The Sporks hounded him, kept forcing him to fall back until he reached Greece. Eventually, they cornered him at the edge of Tarturus, the pit where Zeus imprisoned the Titans. Several of the Sporks rushed him and they all fell in. As far as I know, Voldemort is still alive down there. I suppose the Titans might find a way to kill him, eventually." Her smile was chill. "It might take them a few centuries, but it'll give them something to do."

"Sounds like he was beaten to me," Helena muttered.

"By that point," Baron said, ignoring Helena, "the planet was a wreck. Fifty years of war takes its toll and rebuilding was at the forefront of everyone's mind. The Sporks and the Sues fell under the control of the D.S.A, who would amuse itself by periodically "eradicating nests of Dark Wizards" on the basis that another Voldemort could never be allowed to happen. The Dark Arts were forbidden on pain of death. Then, in twenty seventy-five, the Sues went mad and slaughtered the Sporks, the D.S.A. high command, and the U.S.S.A's government. Then they raided the Department of Mysteries in what was left of London and vanished. I was on a research trip in Canada or they would have gotten me as well. By the time I heard what had happened, remnants of the D.S.A. command structure had seized control. I decided to stay away. If I went back, I knew I would be forced into creating new weapons and more powerful creatures to replace the Sporks. So I hid myself in the distant north and spenty the next qaurter of a century in seclusion, watching from afar as the D.S.A. militarized the populace."

"That's why Gary was standing that way," Hermione exclaimed, snapping her fingers. "Remember when we went shopping in Flourish and Blotts? Remember how he was standing?"

"Yeah," Ron said.

"Right," Harry said. "And then you said that he must have spent time in the military. A lot of time, if he was standing like that without realizing it."

"I'm afraid it's worse then that," Baron said. "During the last years of the war, in order to beef up its forces, the D.S.A. was secretly matching people genetically for the best results and using Potions and other methods to make them breed. The results were then raised by the Army as orphans. After the Sues struck, they started doing it openly."

"That's awful!" Hermione exclaimed.

Ron stared at Gary, horrified. "You have no family?" To Ron, who had such a large family, such thing must have seemed too terrible to contemplate.

Gary just shrugged. "We're told that the D.S.A. was our family." He smiled sardonically. "The D.S.A. is mother and father, and we are but its children. Ever loyal to the Cause." Something about the way he said those words made Harry shudder.

"Spoken like a true Firehawk," Helena said from her stool. She looked scathingly at Gary. "Blind loyalty was always their best trait."

"Firehawk?" Harry asked.

"The D.S.A.'s most elite soldiers," Baron replied. "Assassins and saboteurs, for the most part, in addition to being shock troops. They're the only reason the Sues didn't do more damage then they did before they left." She set aside her teacup. "And they're why the D.S.A. managed to seize control of most of the world. Gary was born in twenty eighty-five using stored genetic material. By then, the D.S.A.'s training methods all but obliterate individuality for the express purpose of allowing the troops the ability to don and shed identities as needed."

"But . . ." Ron trailed off and looked at Gary. "He's . . . that's fake?"

Baron nodded. "Gary and his sqaud were away from their base when they were attacked by . . . people with a bone to pick with the D.S.A. The village I was living in was on the edge of the D.S.A.'s northernmost border and it was the hub for many fiercely independant communities. Gary was the only survivor of the attack and badly wounded. Over the years, I'd . . . tinkered, you might say, with the Spork process. Improved it, made it better. I administered it to Gary in the hopes that the Spork's ability to heal quickly could save his life."

"Yeah," Gary said acidly. "Thanks." He held up his hand and Hermione gasped as his fingertips peeled back like a bannanna and the claws of bone emerged.

Baron ignored him. "While he was recovering, I learned that the effects of the Second War were even worse then the D.S.A. ever was. The planet was dying. Fifty years of unending magical war had wrecked havoc with the planetary ecosystem. Within a few short years, we'd all suffocate to death. That's when a plan came to me and I began to construct a gate."

"To escape to your past?" Ron asked.

Baron shook her head. "Think about what I've told you, Ron. Think about it all. You can figure out."

Ron's brow furrowed in thought and his eyes narrowed in concentration. Thin beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

"She wanted me to avert the Second War," Gary said when it became obvious that Ron was about burst a blood vessel. "And maybe even the first. All I had to was kill Tom Riddle before he ever became Voldemort."

"But the Gate was imprecise," Baron said. "About all I could do was target the twentith century and hope that enough power was used that he would land in the forties, when Riddle was still a student and vunerable."

"But you didn't use enough power," Hermione said. "He landed in ninety-six and had to adapt."

Baron nodded. "I crafted for him a personality which I felt would let him get on with most people he'd meet and sent him through with his instructions. If he managed to kill Riddle, the Wars shouldn't happen. He even had a detailed historical record of where the Chamber of Secrets was, key events in the history of the school and instructions to get in touch with Dumbledore upon arrival. After he was gone, I decided to go as well. I was sure that I wouldn't survive the trip, but I felt that it would be a better way to go then suffocating."

"Which brings us to Mr. Stuart," Dumbledore said. "How did you come to join the exchange program and never came to see me?"

"I did," Gary said quietly. "Come to see you, I mean. But they were already here."

"Crystal," Helena said, standing up. "You killed Crystal."

"Was that her name?" Gary asked.

"Crystal?" Dumbledore asked. Gary's face took on an odd expression and Dumbledore leaned forward. "You claim that you came to see me, Mr. Stuart, yet I cannot recall speaking with you. Why is that?"

Helena stepped forward. "If I may, Sir?" She pressed her fingers to Dumbledore's head. "A memory charm," she said after a moment. "A memory charm was placed on you . . . but I can't tell by who. There's a gap in your memory immediately after it, as though you were unconscious."

"I suspect the reason for that lies behind the block. Can you remove it?" Helena nodded. "Then please do." Helena shifted her fingers and Dumbledore let out a groan. "I see . . ." the old man said softly. "I taught her too well, it seems." Slowly, he stood up and walked to the fireplace and tossed some powder into it. "Minerva, would you come to my office, please?"

"Professor McGonagall put a Memory Charm on you?" Hermione said. "But why? That's illegal in all the world. What if--"

"Patience, Miss Granger. I expect she had her reasons and we shall hear them before making conclusions . . . or accusations."

Hermione's face flushed.

A few minutes later, McGonagall entered, dressed in her usual robes. Only the dark circles under her eyes hinted that she'd been woken up out of a sound sleep. She took the room in and then straightened. "You know," she said to Dumbledore. The old man nodded. "Then I will of course, tender my resignation immediatly and turn myself in to the Aurors."

"I will not accept your resignation, Minerva, nor will I allow you to do something so foolish. But I would like to know _why_."

"Crystal made you happy," McGonagall said softly. "She was a fake, I know, but you were so pleased to have a daughter. I couldn't bear the thought of what would happen if you learned the truth. So I used a memory charm and ordered the House Elves and the Portraits to silence."

"Is this true?" Dumbledore said.

"She threatened to put us on the staircase to the Slytherin Dungeon if we spoke of it!" one of the Portraits exclaimed. "In a cheap frame, no less!"

"Expel her, Sir," roared another, shaking a fist. "Let the Dementors have her."

Dumbledore steepled his long fingers and gazed solemnly at McGonagall. "No," he said at last. "I cannot expel someone for acting on their consience in an effort to spare someone else's pain."

"Thank you, Albus," McGonagall said quietly.

"However," Dumbledore said in a voice like steel. "I must remind you, Minerva, that I still have a few good shocks left and when it comes to something that threatens this school, I must know about it, regardless of your personal feelings on the matter. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Headmaster," McGonagall said in that same quiet voice.

"Then the matter is settled." Dumbledore waved his wand and conjured another chair. "Would you like some tea, Minerva?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Hold on," Hermione said. "You said you sent Gary to the fifties to kill Tom Riddle before he became Voldemort."

"Hermione!" Ron hissed.

"Yes, that's right," Baron said.

"And that was his mission, find and kill Tom Riddle."

"Yes."

"Then how did he know Crystal was a Sue?"

"I . . . " Baron started and then blinked. "Gary?"

"I . . ." Now it was Gary's turn to blink. "I don't know." He frowned. "Come to think of it, I don't even remember being told I was supposed to kill Riddle." He looked at Baron. "You gave me a complete briefing on the Sues, Harry, and everything else."

"How puzzling," Dumbledore said. "But perhaps we can put this aside for the moment." He looked at Gary. "Why are the Sues still alive and terrorizing my school?"

"I'd like to know that myself," Helena said, just loud enough to be heard.

"Why did they come back in the first place?" Gary responded.

"Professor Dumbledore asked first!" Helena snapped and then blushed. Harry noticed Dumbledore smile as Baron and McGonagall exchanged questioning looks.

"Oh bother this!" Hermione exclaimed, hopping off the chair arm. "Eeny meeny miny mo!" Her wand was aimed at Helena. "You first," she snapped.

Helena sighed. "After the awakening, we raided the historical archives at New D.C. Marissa wanted to know more then just what the D.S.A. put in our memories."

"Who's Marissa?" Harry asked.

"Marissa was the first of us. Ratliff's creation. We're all just pale imitations of her," Helena replied. "While observing the Archives, Marissa developed a fixation on Harry and decided that he had to be hers."

Harry thought of what he had seen Aroha become and swallowed hard as he thought of being the lover of something like that.

"We were sent back in time. The idea was to seperate Harry from his friends and peers. Crystal was to keep Dumbledore busy, some of us would concentrate on Snape, Amanda and I were to see to it that Harry became isolated from Ron and Hermione. Me as his sister, her as his girlfriend. In the end, it was I who would face Voldemort. I know every spell ever made. Every charm, curse, jinx and hex, including some that were invented for the war. All I had to do was get close enough to use this." She removed a box from her robes. "Open," she said and the lid lifted. Inside was a gem. It was a pale gray and almost seemed to pulse with evil. "Crystalized Dementor blood. It sucks out the soul upon contact with the skin. Then it would be tossed into Tarturus. Hundreds of Dark Wizards were dealt with like that during the War. Meanwhile, Draco and Dumbledore would fight the second war while Hermione and Ratliff would be manipulated into creating us. Once that happened, Harry would be delivered unto Marissa, along with Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic. We could have ruled the world . . ." She looked up at the ceiling, unable to continue.

Dumbledore and walked over to Helena, resting his hand on her shoulder as he refilled her teacup.

Helena seemed to draw strength from Dumbledore's touch. "But Gary killed Crystal and Amanda, leaving me to isolate Harry alone. Suddenly, I not only had to keep Harry and the others under control, but watch my own back." She leaned forward, elbow on her knee, hand on her forehead, shoulders slumped.

She looked incredibly weary.

"To be Harry's sister," she said softly, "I had to be a Gryffindor to my fingertips. Selfless, strong, brave and loyal. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being an act." She raised her head to look at them. "And here I am."

Dumbledore looked expectantly at Gary.

"I was waiting until after the Holidays," Gary said. "When Hogwarts would be cut off for twenty-four hours." His eyes lost their warmth and killer came out. "Couldn't risk any of you getting away, could I?" Then the killer disappeared again.

"And what about me?" Harry demanded, leaping to his feet. "You and those things are fighting your own damn war while we're nothing more then pieces!" He glared at McGonagall. "And you were helping him! Why? Didn't you care? Or is it just more important that we be left in the dark. Why wasn't I told?"

"Because none of them would have believed you," Helena said. "Among our abilites is the power to manipulate the mind with a touch. Ever since we met on the train, I've been encouraging you to not be curious, to trust me more then anyone, to do what you're told." She smiled. "Your mind is very strong, Harry. I had to touch you a lot to keep you the way they wanted you."

Harry glared at her and then sat back down in his chair, staring at the front of Dumbledore's desk.

"What do we do now?" Baron asked. "The Sues have to be stopped."

"We do nothing," Gary said. "You wait until Hogwarts is cut off, I'll kill them all."

"Don't bother," Helena said. "We'll be dead by Spring."

"Dead?"

"There's a flaw in our design," Helena said. "When we took these hosts, we destroyed their minds and replaced their concious thought with our own. But the memories remain intact and memories are made up of our experiences. In experience lies personality. We're becoming who our hosts were and forgetting who we are."

"And this is bad, how?" Ron asked.

"Because even when its over, there's a good chance that we'll still have our powers. Without the memories of what we were, we'd run rampant. A horde of teenage girls with the power to do anything we want. Anything at all."

"Nothing we can't handle," McGonagall said. "You've just described most of the female students at Hogwarts.

Helena shook her head. "You don't understand, we didn't land in England, we landed in America." She pressed a hand to her chest. "These are American teenagers. Muggles, in fact. From a suburban high school."

"Oh, God!" Hermione exclaimed in horror. "No!"

Helena nodded. "It's already surfacing in the others. They're forming cliques, obsessing about their appearance," she made a face. "Worrying about status."

"But you're amazingly immune to this flaw?" Hermione's tone was scathing. "You're the speshul one?"

"Hardly," Helena said. "I took one of the wallflowers. The ones who sit along the wall, watching the others. We think alike, she and I. But soon, I'll be gone, just like the others. But before that happens, I intend to see them fail."

"I see," Dumbeldore said. "The night is wearing on, though. I believe Mr. Stuart's plan, as risky as it is, is the only one that has a chance of success."

"No it doesn't," Helena said and pointed at Hermione at Ron. "They know too much."

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked.

"Explain," Baron snapped.

"The plan was too isolate Harry," Helena said. "Not Hermione and Ron. Knowing what they know, even the others will realize that the plan's been spoiled once they encounter them."

"We can pretend," Ron said. "I can act."

"Think, Weasley," Helena snapped. "Remember what they've made you do. Look at what you're wearing. That's only because you were firmly under their control. Do you really think you can fool them? If you can't, if you slip, they'll realize that somebody snitched. When that happens, they'll finger me and scatter. Once that happens, we may never find them." She took a deep breath. "I have to put them back under, with one small modification. The moment Hogwarts is isolated, they'll wake up. I assume that's also the moment Gary was planning to start his work."

Gary nodded.

"Are you crazy?" Ron demanded. "How do we know we can trust you?"

"You don't. But Gary's another matter. If you don't wake up, or if I put Harry under, he'll kill me and I don't want to die. Not like that. Not a meaningless death."

"She's right," Baron said coldly. "As much as I hate to admit it, she's right. Harry could probably get by, especially with Marupo dead, but not those two."

"I find myself in agreement," Dumbledore said softly. He looked at Hermione and Ron. "I will not order you, I will not even ask. This must be your decision entirely." He gestured at the stairs. "You may talk it over up there, if you wish. Take as long as you desire."

Hermione nodded and she and Ron walked up the stairs and out of sight. As soon as they were gone, Gary was out of his chair, across the room as he armor exploded out of his skin. He grabbed Helena by the front of her robe and threw her into Hermione's chair.

Eyes blazing, he lifted her to her feet and pressed his claws to her chest. "A word of warning, Sue," he said. "If this conversion isn't entirely genuine, I'll spend the rest of my life making sure your death makes a meaningless death look like Paradise. Especially after you die and what's left doesn't even remember why she's being tortured."

"It's genuine," Helena said gravely. "I swear to you, on the honor of the House, I am one of you. I am a Gryffindor."

Glowing red eyes narrowed. "So was Pettigrew," he snarled and let her drop.

An hour later, Ron and Hermione returned, Ron looking decidedly mussed. "We've decided," Hermione said. "We'll let Helena put us back under if that really is the only way."

"It may not be," Dumbledore said, gravely. "There are usually other options that we come up with only afterwards. But we can't worry about those. This is all we have. Are you sure about this?"

The two Gryffindors nodded.

"Very well then," Dumbledore said and nodded to Helena.

"Once you leave this pass the gargoyle that gaurds the stairs below, you'll revert to how you were before tonight," Helena told them as she touched their cheeks.

Hermione nodded and then went to Harry and hugged him. Ron did the same.

"Let's get this over with," Ron said in a worried tone and they both left the office.

"I should go as well," McGonagall said and then looked at Harry. "As should you, Mr. Potter. Knowing the truth does not excuse you from your schoolwork and you do require sleep."

"Quite right," Dumbledore said. "But I would like for you to stay for a few moments, Minerva. There is something I want to talk to you about."

"Come on then," Harry said to Gary and Helena. "Let's go."

"Ah, Mr. Stuart," Dumbledore said.

"Hm?" Gary asked and then looked down at himself. "Oh." His belt buckle, which Harry realized that Gary had recived that day at the Burrow, began to glow as the bone plates retracted into Gary's skin, the holes of their passage sealing up as though they were never there. Then his clothes faded into view, fully intact, as the glow faded.

"Does it hurt?" Harry asked.

Gary shook his head. "A little bit. Nothing I can't handle." But there was something in his voice that said otherwise.

"Goodnight, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Miss Potter, Mr. Stuart."

"Good night, sir," Harry said quietly and the three of them left.

When the door closed, all the chairs but McGonagall's and Baron's vanished. "Minerva, Professor Baron has information you need, and there's some others things to attend to."

Baron took a deep breath and looked at McGonagall. "It's good to see you again, Professor." McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "I call myself Nessia Baron, but I was born Hermione Granger."

"Tea, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked.


End file.
